


Gift With Purchase Remix

by sabrecmc



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Dubious Morality, Getting Together, Hammer is a douche, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, Protective Tony Stark, Rimming, Steve Feels, Sugar Daddy, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, hooker steve, hookerfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker.  But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.</p><p>NSFW Fanart in chapter 14 by maxkennedy24<br/>NSFW Fanart in Chapter 15 by tsumi-noaru</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gift With Purchase](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116620) by [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc). 



He couldn’t do this. 

Sitting in the back of the limo, back pressed against the rear leather seat, suit too tight and hot, Steve knew he just could not do this.  Everything he’d told himself since Clint had even mentioned this whole idea, everything he’d heard the lady at the agency say…it was out the window the moment the guy put his hand on Steve’s crotch and started rubbing. 

It had seemed so simple, a lifeline when Clint had casually mentioned that he’d done it from time to time when he’d been short on funds.  No big deal.  He’d seemed so nonchalant about it.   All high-end, Clint had said.  No weird stuff, unless you were into that.  You had to ok everything beforehand.  All above-board, or as above-board as something like this could be.

 And then the woman at the agency.  She’d seemed so professional in her tailored suit and sharp heels, going over paperwork and giving him her business card, embossed with nothing more than a black spider with a red dot and a phone number beneath it.  Just another day at the office. 

But then there was this guy and he was touching Steve and she’d said, “Only what you are ok with.  Only what you agree to beforehand,” and had he agreed to this?  He couldn’t seem to remember, all rational thought having left around the time the guy he’d met twenty minutes ago started grabbing his cock and rubbing like there was a wish-granting genie on the horizon.  He gripped the door handle, not sure what his plan was there, just glad to have some means of escape in his hand as panic set in. 

He’d taken a cab to the guy’s place, based on the address the agency had provided.  Dress nicely, they’d said.  Tux.  He’d had to borrow Clint’s.  It was outdated and too small, but it worked.  He didn’t figure on having it on long enough to matter, to be honest.  And therein was the problem.  He’d signed up for this.  Full disclosure.  He’d gone in, met with the scarily professional lady that he supposed was technically a madam, answered some questions and let her take some pictures and it had all seemed fine, a bit like he imagined modeling would be except with blood tests.  And the way Clint talked…well, it had seemed like such an easy fix.  Just a night, just sex.  He could handle that.  Wasn’t like he was afraid of anything happening that he didn’t want to happen. After all, he had a good six inches and fifty pounds of muscle on the guy.  So why did he feel small, pinned in place, sitting here in the back of a limo, sweating through his borrowed, too-small suit? 

“Looks like the whole package is industrial sized,” the man said with a lascivious smirk, continuing to rub up and down Steve’s cock.  Steve was this close to bolting when the limo stopped and moments later, the door popped open.  Air.  Breath.  Good God, Steve thought, sucking in a lungful.  He’d been on the verge of a panic attack over a little groping.  How was he supposed to get through the night?  He knew what he’d signed up for, after all.  He wasn’t an idiot.  She’d asked very specific questions about what he was ok with and what he wasn’t.  He’d blushed down to his toes, but answered them all.  So, this was no surprise. He knew he could expect much more later.  Later.  Later, when this guy was doing a lot more than putting his hand on Steve’s dick through his suit.  And Steve had said yes to this.  Eagerly.  Best not to forget that.  He’d signed up for this, whatever it was. 

The guy stepped out of the limo, and Steve was left to wonder if he was meant to follow.  The guy bent back down to peer into the limo at Steve.  “Well?  Come on.  We only have to put in an appearance.  But, I paid for the whole evening, so…let’s go, hot stuff!  Want to get my money’s worth,” he said, the smile that didn’t meet his eyes back on his face, leaving Steve to wonder what he considered getting his money’s worth. 

“Sorry,” Steve said nervously.  “I wasn’t sure if…I mean, if you wanted…” he stammered, waving his hand vaguely toward the limo door in a motion that he hoped said, I wasn’t sure if you wanted your hooker to join  you at the…benefit gala…for the evening or just wait in the car like a good boy.  It must have communicated just fine because the guy was laughing his odd little laugh.

“Are you kidding, gorgeous?  Wait ‘til they get a look at you!  I’ll be the envy of every idiot schmoozer in there.  Come on,” his client replied, two-stepping to the side to give Steve room to exit the limo.  As he did, he was aware of a line of paparazzi and other people, most of whom were paying him little actual attention, but the sudden influx of attention jarred him.  He hadn’t been expecting that and found himself staring stupidly around, unsure what to do but follow the guy into the venue.  His client was looking around, eyes perked up, scanning the crowd for something, but apparently not finding it by the frown that filled his features. 

“They obviously don’t know real power when they see it, the idiots,” the guy said, waving Steve along as the crowd, to his great relief, ignored them. 

Once inside, his client moved quickly to a group of acquaintances, motioning Steve to the bar to get drinks.  “Vodka tonic.  No ice.  Don’t let them use that cheap crap either.  Stoli,” he’d said, patting Steve on the chest a little too long.  “Take your time.  Get yourself something.  Relax.  Listen, I’ve got a few “work-related” people to meet,” he’d said, using his fingers to make little quote marks, “I don’t need this evening to be awkward, you know.  So, no need to rush back until the party gets started. I'll let you know when you're needed, beautiful. There are some friends I'd like you to meet later.” Steve took that for the get-the-fuck-out-of-here-while-the-decent-folks-are-around that it was and headed for the bar without looking back. 

He slowly made his way across the ballroom floor to the bar, noting in the mirror above the bartender’s area that his date for the evening was surrounded by various military brass, guffawing raucously over something one of them said.  How could they not know that was totally fake? Steve had known the guy less than half an hour and he knew it was complete bullshit. 

He braced his hands against the bar, ordering a Vodka tonic for his client, “Stoli” on the tip of his tongue before just shrugging at the bartender and taking whatever he was handed.  He figured the guy wouldn’t actually be able to tell any difference.  He ordered an ice water for himself.  The woman at the agency had been very clear. Don’t drink alcohol while on a job.  And always make sure you got your own drinks or watched them be mixed.  It was rather scary that these were the protocols, as Steve could well imagine the reasons why. 

So, this was a problem.  He wasn’t an idiot.  He knew what he’d signed up for tonight.  It had all seemed so clear earlier in the week, sitting there across from the red-headed woman discussing how this all worked.  Totally professional.  They had a handbook, for crying out loud.  And Clint?  Clint seemed ok with it.  Granted, Clint seemed ok with most anything, but still.  He’d never said anything about how your insides felt like jelly and you wanted to sink into the floor.  Damn it.  What the hell was he going to do?  It wasn’t like this was his first choice, but…well, it turned out there wasn’t much of a job market for art-school drop-outs.  Extra shifts at the construction site, the night security job at the warehouse…it wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t going to be enough and that was just all there was to it.  Lie back and think of round-the-clock nursing care, he thought, somewhat hysterically. 

He drank his ice water, throat suddenly parched, and turned to go.  He would have spilled his client’s drink on the dark-haired man behind him if not for reflexes honed from years of dealing with Bucky’s shenanigans.    

“Oh!  Sorry!”  Steve said in a startled voice, trying to tuck the drink back towards him so it wouldn’t spill on the stranger.  “I’m…are you…did I?  Sorry.  Did I just cut in front of you?” he stammered, suddenly feeling twelve years old, trying to control a body that no longer fit. 

The man put out a quick hand to his elbow to steady him, but let go almost as soon as he’d touched.  “No problem.  Plenty to go around,” he responded, smiling.  “Scotch, good sir, and make it quick,” the man told the bartender with practiced ease. 

Looking Steve up and down with appraising eyes, the man continued, “It’s an open bar, you know?” and he nodded at Steve’s drink.

“Yeah, um…yeah, well, I…I’m…” Steve stumbled on, not really sure how to answer that one.  Why hadn’t he thought this through more?  It had seemed so simple as he buttoned his cufflinks and tied his tie tonight.  “working.  I’m working.  So, um, excuse me.  So sorry, really, I hope I didn’t get anything on you?” Steve finished, glancing down at the man’s suit to look for signs of stains and instead catching onto the fact that the guy was dressed impeccably, in what must have been a custom tailored suit.  Damn. Figures it would be one of the big-wigs he’d literally run into. 

The man’s gaze snapped up to him at that, and then swept down over him again.  And great.  Just great.  He’d practically ruined the guy’s suit and introduced himself as a…as a…well, what he was, all in one breath.  Never let it be said that he did things in half measures.  The guy was probably going to call security and get him thrown out.  Steve tried not to feel relief at the prospect. 

“Working, huh?” the guy said, brown eyes frank now, and Steve wasn’t blind enough to fail to see the interest there.  Oh.  Okay.  Well.  He blinked, unsure what to do, still holding his client’s cheap vodka tonic in his hand. 

“Are  you…did you come with someone tonight?” the man asked, his voice sounding somewhat strained, but it could just be trying to hear him over the din of the band playing and hum of conversation. 

“Um, yeah.  Yes.  I mean, yes, I did, I am,” Steve managed to get out, and _God, Rogers, just freaking deal, would you?_

“Who?” the man asked with seemingly mild curiosity. 

Steve wasn’t sure of all the particulars of this arrangement, but he was pretty sure that outing your client was bad form.  “Ah…I don’t…” he attempted, searching for the combination of words that would get him out of this, but his eyes darted to his client, where he had an arm wrapped around some military higher-up, laughing too brightly to be authentic. _You can call me, 'Mr. Hammer,'_ he'd said. Steve actually couldn't imagine doing that, to be honest. 

“Huh,” the man said.  “You could do better.  A lot better, in fact.”  Steve looked down at him and felt a blush cover his cheeks. This man knew.  He knew what Steve was doing here tonight and what he’d be doing later tonight.  Somehow, that made everything more real than it had been since he’d stepped out of the cab at the address the agency had provided.  He swallowed heavily, throat suddenly dry.  He needed to get out of here. This wasn’t going to work.  He could see it clearly now.  His client was going to want, no expect, to touch him and do things and Steve was probably going to vomit all over his very expensive rug and get thrown out. This was so not a good idea.  But what other options were there?  Not like he hadn’t explored other possibilities, but the list of jobs that paid this well for someone with his skills generally consisted of 1) escort or 2) porn.  With porn, he figured there would be a record of it and that would be worse somehow.  Now, he wasn’t so sure that was actually a line of demarcation. 

The man continued to stare at him for a moment longer, then nodded, and looked down as the bartender delivered his drink.  Steve assumed that was the end of it, so started to walk…well, somewhere.  His client was still surrounded by various partygoers, and Steve had no idea if these were the friends Hammer actually wanted him to meet or not. 

He started to walk away anyway, heading aimlessly toward the direction of the balcony, thinking air would probably be a good thing about now, when the man reached out and touched his jacket sleeve lightly, stopping him.  “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it.  Hell, triple it. I don't think I'd regret it,” he said, not quite managing to meet Steve’s eyes, but not letting go of his jacket either. 

Well, that was unexpected.

Steve took a moment to wrap his head around what the man was saying, not sure how this evening had suddenly gotten so topsy-turvy.  He blinked down at his client’s drink, felt a schism of distaste roll through him at the recollection of his client’s hand cupping him in the limo, the off-hand mention of meeting some friends, thought about the stack of bills at home and words like Glasgow Coma Scale and Neuropsychologist.  He could do this, he thought, but he needed to do this under his own terms, feel like he had some control, however ephemeral it was.  Even if it was all an illusion. 

He looked down at the sharply dressed man with the dark eyes and impeccably trimmed goatee. 

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

It occurred to Steve as he sat stiffly in the back of his second limo ride with a stranger of the night that one way to exert some degree of control over the situation may have been to simply tell Mr. Hammer not to touch him without asking first or at least giving him a second to adjust.  Not like the expectation had been exactly unreasonable, considering the circumstances.   After all, Hammer had at least been vetted by the agency.   What had Ms. Romanov said about him?  He was a little odd, but nothing too weird according to past…dates.  That had sounded fine at the time.  So ‘a little odd’ translated to ‘gropes you in the car’?  That had been…okay, well, that had been a little unexpected and uncomfortable, but hardly a reason to run off with a stranger in what he was pretty sure was a clear violation of some agency policy that was likely going to end up with him not getting paid.  Speaking of which, though the guy had offered him more for the night, he actually had no idea how that was supposed to work.  The agency handled the money.  Was he supposed to take a check?  Ask to see ID?  Good Lord.  He might as well just tuck and roll out the door when the limo slowed.  What the hell had he been thinking?  The answer, of course, was that thinking had left the building around the time he’d gotten out of the cab at Hammer’s house, met the man at the door and the realization that they would be having sex in a few hours had settled somewhere low in his stomach and crawled around his insides the rest of the night. 

He took a moment to wonder at the irony of the fact that his attempt at regaining a sense of autonomy had resulted in a situation where he was in even less control.  He didn’t even know his current client’s name or where he was going.  Not that Steve felt threatened, exactly, just completely out of his element. 

He chanced a glance at his companion, who was quietly tapping away on one of those tablet things, the blue glow of the screen illuminating sharp features, full lips and hair that was trying desperately to curl.  Definitely an improvement in the looks department, Steve acknowledged.  Though that would probably not count for much if they got to his house and he opened his Dungeon of Mystery.  Jesus.  He was going to have some kind of anxiety attack and completely freak the guy out, get fired from a job he never wanted and still have absolutely no idea what to do about the money situation. 

“Drink,” the guy said, handing him a tumbler with some kind of amber liquid in it.  Ok, that was definitely against the rules. Steve remembered that one.  Only drink what you make.  On the other hand, if the worst thing was that he ended up with no memory of what happened tonight, that didn’t sound so bad at the moment. 

He drank down a long swallow.  And then promptly started choking.  Smooth.  Outstanding.  The guy was clapping him on the back as he coughed and sputtered. 

“Th-thanks,” Steve managed to get out between coughs.  The guy was smiling though, not unkindly either.  “I don’t usually drink much, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the guy said, taking the half-finished drink back and tossing it back in one gulp.  “I drink enough for two, so it works out.  Math-wise, I mean,” he said, waving his hand in the air dismissively.  Guess it wasn’t drugged then.

“I realize I’ve been neglecting you.  Sorry about that.  You can call me Tony, by the way,” the guy said.

“Tony,” Steve repeated, trying the sound of the name and nodding in an awkward belated greeting. 

“It’s okay.  I mean, you’re busy.  That’s fine.  Totally fine.  I don’t…you don’t have to entertain me.  I—I—I’m Steve.  Steve.  My name,” he forced out.  “It’s nice to meet you.”  _It’s nice to meet you?  Really, Rogers?_   He could practically hear Bucky’s laughter in the background.  He wasn’t good at this stuff under normal conditions.  In this situation?  He was hopeless.

The guy, Tony now, sat the tablet down in his lap and angled his torso towards Steve.  “You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?” he said with a tone of amazed amusement. 

Steve stared at him, trying to see if his mind could come up with something, but while the guy looked somewhat vaguely familiar, like something he’d glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, but never really seen, he was drawing a blank.  “No, sorry.  Sorry, I just don’t really have time to…pay attention to…” and he really didn’t know how to finish.  _I don’t have time to pay attention to celebrities?  Businessmen? Whatever important type of person you think you are?_   He honestly had no idea what to say that didn’t sound belittling and pretentious. 

Luckily, Tony didn’t seem to take offense, just shook his head, with a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  “This is actually you, isn’t it?  I mean, this isn’t an act…because I have to tell you that you’ve already got my interest, so there’s really no need.”

 “No act.  I really am this clueless,” Steve said intending to come across as affronted and indignant, but must not have managed it because Tony just burst out laughing.  And then Steve couldn’t help but join in because the whole situation as just about as ridiculous as it could get and laughing seemed like a better release than an anxiety attack, after all. 

Tony was shaking his head and wiping his eyes.  He had a nice laugh, low and rich, Steve noticed, returning his smile with a rueful grin of his own.  Even in the low light reflected off the tablet screen, Steve could see Tony’s eyes darken with something far different than mirth.  He looked away quickly, staring down at his hands clasped together in his lap (because never let it be said that Steve wasn’t a fast learner).  But Tony didn’t try to touch him, just went back to tapping on his tablet.  Steve turned to stare at the window.  Through the darkened glass he could just make out the stretch of highway that led away from the bright lights of the city.  In the reflection, he could occasionally see Tony’s eyes raise from his tablet screen to look at him.

Steve knew he should be asking questions.  Get the business part on the table.  How do you want to arrange payment?  What are your expectations?  When was the last time you were tested and what were the results?  Those were the proper types of questions to be asking.  What he really wanted to know, however, was what are you going to ask me to do? Will it be something I can be okay with?  If I don’t want to, what happens?  What if I mess up and it isn’t good?  Of course, he couldn’t really ask these questions.  Tony had no idea this was his first time doing something like this.  He expected someone who knew the gig, not some nervous schoolboy.  Tucking and rolling was looking more and more like a viable option.  Clamping down on his anxiety, Steve stared fixedly at the window as the miles passed by.

He wasn’t sure how long the limo ride lasted.  It felt long, but his own jumbled thoughts didn’t really lend themselves to paying close attention to detail at the moment.  The limo slowed in front of a large security gate, which slowly opened in front of it.  A long, winding driveway followed to a circular drive in front of what was a house only because it fit in that general category.  Steve forgot his apprehension for a moment and simply took in the sight.  His artist’s eye roved over the undulating form and curvature of the structure, the way it hugged the cliff, giving panoramic views of the ocean below from nearly every angle.  He imagined the morning light must be amazing.  He was pretty sure his mouth must have gaped open and hung there, catching flies his mom would have said.  “Wow,” he said, which about summed it up.

“It’s even better inside.  You’ll like it,” Tony replied, and Steve could hear the fondness in his voice.  Steve supposed if he had a house like this, he’d be pretty proud of it, too.  Money could buy lots of things, but certainly not taste or the willingness to create something spectacular and beautiful.  And there was no denying what this house was.  Art.  Any other time and he’d be giddy to go inside and explore.  He turned to Tony to say something to that effect, but stopped himself when he found Tony’s liquid brown eyes staring at him instead of the house, seeming to drink him in and Steve blinked, caught off guard for a moment.  Of course, it was his house, so he was probably used to it by now.  It wouldn’t be a big deal to him.  No telling what he would think if Steve started waxing poetic about Gehry’s influence.

The limo door sprang open, jarring Steve back to reality.  A stocky man in a chauffeur’s outfit stood holding the handle.  “Evening, Boss,” he said pleasantly.  “Sir,” he nodded in Steve’s direction.  And, ok, that…was weird.  He wondered briefly how often Tony’s chauffeur dealt with one of Tony’s evening guests.  By the studiously neutral expression he wore, probably fairly often. 

Steve stepped out of the limo into the cool night air, able to smell the salt and sea from here.  He felt Tony’s presence behind him and quickly moved out of the way to let Tony lead.  He wasn’t sure what to say to the chauffeur, but hadn’t been raised to be impolite.  “Hi, um….thanks?  For the ride and the door…thing.”  Geez, he should really stop speaking.   _Forever._   He did catch the driver’s lip twitch though, so he took it as a small victory.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony close his eyes and duck his head with a smile.  He figured by this point, Tony probably thought he was an idiot.  A pretty idiot, maybe, but certainly not the brightest crayon in the box.  He sighed.  This kind of thing had always been difficult for him, and tonight he was entirely too nervous to worry about impressing Tony with his mind.  He was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be required anyway.

They made their way into the house, the front doors opening with a key somehow.  It was just as impressive from the inside.  But what caught Steve’s attention was the art.  All over the place.  Paintings, sculptures, photographs, many he recognized or at least knew the style well enough to come close and these…these weren’t prints.  These were the real thing.  Tony walked over to the bar and poured himself another drink.  He held up the decanter in silent question to Steve, but Steve shook his head, barely turning away from the Jackson Pollack in front of him.  He’d never thought to see one of these outside a museum.  And here it was.  In a hallway of the house owned by the guy who was paying him for sex.  Well, that thought brought some much needed clarity. 

Steve looked down at his shoes for a moment.  He had the absurd thought that he should have shined them before tonight.  They were scuffed and seemed out of place here.  If he was going to back out, now was the time.  The limo was still parked out front.  He could just call it a night, apologize profusely, walk out the door and pretend this whole thing never happened.  Go back to his life.  His life.  Go back.  Back to what, exactly?  Everything was just as he’d left it.  There was still no good solution to the money issue.  No amount of hard work or perseverance was going to suddenly produce the ten grand a month for a private facility.  So, he could walk out of here, head held high that he’d done the right thing and go back to watch his mom’s condition deteriorate further, hear more lectures in Very Compassionate Voices about institutionalization, moving on, letting go, here-have-a-pamphlet, about how he’d done enough and, his favorite, the it-was-for-the-best lecture.  Best for who?  No one ever said.

He stepped down into the sunken living room and walked over to stand in front of where Tony was sprawled on one part of the large sectional sofa, having loosened his bowtie so it hung in strands around his neck and kicked off his shoes while Steve was admiring the art collection.  He was back to tapping on his tablet again, idly sipping from his drink, and for someone supposedly paying Steve a lot of money for an evening’s company, seemingly content to let Steve study the art at his leisure.  Tony looked up at his arrival, and Steve felt his skin warm where Tony’s glance ran up his body before meeting his eyes.  Ok, so not so content then, Steve thought, watching Tony’s eyes darken to deep, brown pools, heard the slight hitch of breath as he stood in front of him.

One deep breath before the plunge, Steve thought, staring down at Tony.

“What do you want me to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. Makes my little stony heart so happy! Next chapter is half written. It is mostly porn, lol. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

“I’d just like to look at you,” Tony said quietly, the words seeming to startle him even as he spoke.  But he swallowed whatever else he was going to say and looked up at Steve with an expression unlike anything Steve had seen the man wear all evening.  _Want_ , Steve thought.  It was undisguised want. 

Ok, he could do this.  That wasn’t asking much, really.  He’d been in locker rooms before, after all.  Not altogether that different.  Or so he told himself as he shrugged out of his borrowed jacket and let it hit the floor, and for some reason his mind seemed to focus on the fact that the jacket was probably going to wrinkle, lying on the floor, crumpled like that, and he’d have to have it dry cleaned before returning it.  When he was able to drag his gaze from the jacket, he raised his eyes enough to meet Tony’s stare and found he couldn’t look away.  He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do this.  Was it supposed to be some kind of striptease? Was there actually some sexy way to undress out of a tuxedo that people really knew how to do? It had been awkward enough and required Bucky’s help to get the damn thing on. He knew he’d never be able to pull that off. 

Deciding to just be practical about it, he toed off his shoes and bent his knee up to pull his socks off, one after the other.  He felt an embarrassed flush blooming, and fumbled at the small dress shirt buttons with too-big hands.  He’d forgotten to undo the cuffs, he realized too late and had to regroup to unbutton them before removing his shirt.  Tony was watching him, and Steve half expected him to tell him to hurry it up or make some comment, but he said nothing.  Just watched.  When his hands reached the front of his trousers, he hesitated a hair’s breath, closed his eyes for a heartbeat and then lowered his pants and boxer briefs in one motion, kicking them aside to the pile.

He couldn’t say what he felt, the moment was too new, too surreal to really capture it.  He was standing naked in a stranger’s living room while the same stranger’s eyes looked him over from head to toe.  Embarrassed, definitely.  He knew he was blushing all over at this point.  It should be humiliating, probably, but there was something about the way Tony was studying him, brown eyes drinking him in, moving over his body and back again, and he knew this, whatever this was, clearly wasn’t meant as a degradation.  Still, it took all his will power to keep his hands fisted at his sides instead of trying to cover himself, regain some semblance of modesty.  But this was what Tony had asked for, though his reasons escaped Steve.  Though he was standing naked in front of Tony, it felt less invasive somehow than the incident in the limo with Mr. Hammer.  Maybe that it had been a request made all the difference.

Or maybe because as Tony’s gaze roved over his body, he could see the other man react, pupils blown wide, breath coming in shortened gasps, body rigid and taut.  He was sure Tony was hard underneath the tablet lying forgotten on his lap.  Unbidden, an odd, heady sense of power swept through him at the sight, what he could do to Tony just by letting him do nothing more than see his body. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching Tony watch him, but he could definitely feel himself responding to the scrutiny.  Ok, well, that was a little humiliating.  Not that Tony seemed displeased at all.  In fact, Steve heard him make some kind strangled sound, and then Tony surging to his feet in one swift movement, the tablet spilling to the floor to join the pile, to stand motionless a few inches from Steve.  It took all of Steve’s control not to stumble back at the sudden invasion of his space, but he held his ground, determined to see this, whatever this was, through. 

“You…you…” Tony started, his hands coming up to run through the air above Steve’s arms, as if tracing him.

While Steve had spent most of the evening tripping over his own tongue, this was the first time Tony had appeared at any kind of loss for words.  Up close like this, Steve could see that Tony’s hands were shaking a bit as he ghosted them over Steve’s body, his face was flushed with heat and his eyes held something in them that Steve couldn’t put a name on. 

Tony dropped his hands to his sides and looked back up at Steve.  “Can I…Is it ok if I…” and it took a moment for Steve to catch up and realize that he was asking permission.  The knot of whatever it was that had settled in the pit of his stomach undid a bit at that.  Steve nodded, and felt warm, slightly calloused hands run from his shoulders down his arms and then ghost over his torso and down his stomach with the lightest touch.  Somewhat against his will, he felt his cock respond to the touch.  He heard Tony groan and mumble a curse or a prayer or both and felt the smaller man’s head lean against his chest before Tony pulled back and put a bit of space between them, swallowing a deep, steadying breath before turning his gaze away from Steve to stare out the expansive window overlooking the ocean.

“I would very much like to take you to bed now,” Tony said, voice low and strained, not taking his eyes off the vista.  It occurred to Steve that he could still say no to this, get dressed and walk away.  He was honestly oddly certain that Tony would still pay him the generous amount he’d offered, just for this and nothing more.  He couldn’t say how he knew that, but he was sure of it. 

“Lead the way,” Steve said, and probably for the first time tonight felt his voice sound clear and strong, the nervousness draining from him once the decision was finally made.  Tony’s eyes snapped back to him now and Steve saw something that looked vaguely like surprise flash across the man’s features, and then Tony’s hand was warm on his elbow and he was being ushered down a long hallway, through two large doors and into an enormous bedroom, lit only by the glow of the moon through the floor to ceiling windows.  The darkness was something of a relief.  It felt less strange somehow to be naked in the dark than in the bright lights of the living room, though this room should feel far more intimate.  He spared a glance at the large bed, the opulent coverings done in various red and gold fabrics and silks.  He followed Tony’s dark form into the room, coming to a stop next to the bed.

“Is there…is there anything I should know about…that you aren’t comfortable with?” Tony questioned, his hands wrapping around Steve’s biceps and running up and down over Steve’s arms, almost like he was warding off a nonexistent chill. 

That was a perfectly logical question. Unfortunately, Steve’s mind went immediately blank.  He should answer this.  This was important.  Ms. Romanov had said to be clear, be upfront, don’t let embarrassment keep you from saying no to something you didn’t want.   You had to communicate with the client.  That was important.  She’d said that several times. 

He just had no idea what to say.  He’d spent so much time on the ‘should I or shouldn’t I’ decision that the after part hadn’t really been considered.  He should have a list.  Make a nice, neat list like he used to do for his art school projects.  Sexual Things I Am Not Ok With by Steve Rogers.  He felt a bit of hysterical laughter threaten to bubble up and just ended up blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. 

“I don’t want to be tied up.  Or hit.  Or…anything like that,” he finished. 

Tony’s eyes had been running over him again, hands still rubbing over his arms and shoulders in gentle, sweeping motions, but at Steve’s words he went stock still.

“I wouldn’t…Wait, who?…No.  No, Steve.  No.  Nothing like that, no,” Tony was shaking his head, and Steve couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face in the darkness, but he could have sworn Tony looked like he was in pain. He heard Tony take a deep breath, “Just…do you have a preference?  I’m fine either way, but I generally prefer to top, at least at first.”

Oh, that.  Well, shit.  Ok, he’d missed that one entirely.  “Um, no.  No preference. Whatever you want is fine.  That…you…top is fine,” Steve managed and thanked God for the darkness now because he was certain he was beet red.  He saw Tony nod a few times and then lean in towards Steve.

He stopped before closing the distance, and Steve had the sense that this must be what it was like standing on a beach, watching the storm move into shore.  Calm, but the air humming with electricity, the tipping point just barely out of reach. 

“Do you kiss?” Tony asked, voice husky and Steve felt the light scrape of beard against his jaw. 

He bent his head.  “Yes,” he decided, finding somewhat to his surprise that he wanted to know what Tony would taste like, how his lips would feel.

“Good,” Tony replied, and wound his hand around Steve’s head pulling his mouth down and placing a gentle, chaste kiss on Steve’s lips.  “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partial chapter. Sorry for the short update, but the second half is almost done. Thank you again for reading, commenting and all the kudos. You guys rock!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, for a hooker-fic, there has been a depressing lack of porn. Let's fix that! Thank you again for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. This is apparently going to be epically long, if my outline is any indication. Hope you enjoy!

One of Tony’s hands wound into his hair, angling his head, and the other moved down his back, over his spine, to grip his hip, fingers splaying downwards, pulling him closer until he was pressed full length against Tony and there was nothing chaste about this now.  The feel of Tony, fully clothed, pressed against his naked flesh did nothing to help calm him.  There was certainly no doubting Tony’s interest. 

Then Tony’s mouth was on his and all rational thought flew out of Steve’s mind as Tony’s tongue darted over his lips, licking and tasting before his hand moved to cup Steve’s jaw and lightly press down, opening his mouth.  As soon as he did, Tony’s tongue swept in, and he heard a moan that must have come from him, though he had no conscious thought of doing it, and somehow his arms were wrapping around Tony, pulling him even closer, as Tony’s tongue plunged deeper, warring with his own.  It was kissing only in the fact that it fell into that general category because this was nothing like Steve had ever experienced before, the way Tony’s tongue moved through his mouth, caressing and seeming to try to delve into every part of him, stealing Steve’s breath.  When Steve let slip an involuntary groan, it was enough to make Tony’s movements even wilder, his hands grasping and roaming all over Steve’s body, as if trying to map it out and commit it to memory. 

He found himself pressed slowly back toward the bed, until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he was suddenly falling rather ungainly, flat on his back, Tony standing above him.  The shadows cast in the room hid Tony’s features, the glow of the moonlight showing only an outline, but Steve watched as Tony unwound his bowtie and removed his jacket.  So, apparently there was a graceful way to take off a tuxedo.  Who knew?  Tony stopped undressing for a moment and leaned over Steve, bracing his hands on either side of Steve’s head and dipping his mouth down for another kiss, licking lightly at Steve’s bottom lip before taking into his mouth and sucking, leaving Steve gripping the sheets with both hands, his cock riding high and hard between them.  Tony still hadn’t touched him there, and he spared a thought to wonder at that, since he seemed to like touching him so much.  Even now, Tony’s hands were skimming this way and that over his body, which had apparently decided to stop listening to his mind at all and was squirming on the bed, lifting and searching for Tony’s touch. 

Tony unzipped his pants and kicked them off, then did the same with his boxers and now there was definitely no doubt about Tony’s level of interest.  His cock was rigid with need, bumping up against his the flat of his stomach, still covered by his undershirt.  Steve let his fingers glide over the bottom edge of Tony’s shirt, wanting nothing more at that moment than to finally feel Tony’s skin against his, but Tony stilled his hesitant movement and drew his hand away.  “I’ll leave this on,” he said.  “I was…there was an…accident…its…you don’t need to worry about it.”  Steve frowned at that, but nodded and moved his hands away.  He quickly but forgot anything but sensation a moment later when Tony brushed up against him, his cock full and hard rubbing against Steve’s leg.  He may have whimpered, he wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it must have been ok, because he saw Tony dip his head to his chest with a deep groan as he ground his cock against Steve, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, and Steve reached up to pull Tony closer, which seemed to surprise him for a moment, but he recovered quickly and lowered himself on the bed next to Steve, leaning down to kiss his way along Steve’s jaw and down his neck.

“Sh-should I…” Steve tried to ask, his hand stuttering out towards Tony’s cock. But Tony shook his head and dipped his mouth back down to Steve’s throat.  Okay, then. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing here, but he couldn’t stop himself from arching his back towards Tony’s mouth as he licked and sucked his way down Steve’s neck and over his collarbone.  Tony paused in his ministrations and looked up at Steve and then down where Steve’s cock bobbed between their bodies, and Steve knew he should be embarrassed, but he didn’t care if Tony would just touch him for God’s sake and he heard a huff of soft laughter and realized he might have said that out loud.  As if from the end of a tunnel, he heard Tony remove something from the nightstand and rub his hands together and then whatever mumbled apology he might have uttered for being so needy was swallowed back by a cry as Tony wrapped his warm hand around Steve’s cock and rubbed his calloused thumb over the length, tracing the slit on the head and finding it wet with pre-cum, spreading it in circles, wetting the head and rubbing in a gentle rhythm that had Steve bucking his hips into Tony’s hand without any thought to what he was doing, just _good God_ the feeling of it.  Tony returned to kissing his way down Steve’s chest, tongue swirling around the sensitive skin shielding a nipple before taking the bud into his mouth and pulling just enough to weave the line between pleasure and pain while his hand continued to rub Steve’s own lubrication over his cock, working his way up and down and rotating around to cup his length before Tony’s fingers ghosted down to rub over his balls and then back up, moving in a faster motion now, up and down and before Steve’s mind caught up with what was happening, he was coming in wild gasps and spurts in Tony’s hand, his body bowing taut and a sharp cry that he didn’t recognize falling from his lips. 

He looked down in horror at the mess.  _Jesus, Rogers.  Congratulations, you have now managed the sexual fortitude of a fourteen year old_ , he thought.

“God, you…you…you’re just…” Tony was saying, staring down at him, and Steve let his head fall back against the bed and closed his eyes.  Ok, so he was probably going to get kicked out and who could blame Tony?  This was hardly the way things were supposed to go.

“So-sorry.  Sorry.  I…that’s…I’m…I’ll just,” he motioned to grab a Kleenex from the nightstand, but Tony stopped him and got up from the bed, and great, just great, could this be more humiliating?  Tony returned a moment later with a soft towel, which, okay that was nice, he supposed, reaching for it, but Tony batted his hand away and bent to start gently cleaning Steve’s belly and thighs.  Steve had no idea what to say or do, so he just lay there watching Tony as he finished his task.  The towel quickly joined Tony’s tux on the floor and Steve had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from saying something about that.  

Then Tony was kissing him again, just lightly on the lips, and, to Steve’s confusion, pressing a long kiss to his forehead.  “You’re amazing.  God, you…you’re beautiful, Steve, so responsive, just so good for me, Steve, so very, very good, you did so good, you’re…” Tony cut himself off.  Steve was left completely confused, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

Tony went back to kissing him again, and Steve thought he could get used to this, the way Tony’s goatee scraped his chin and brushed over his lips, leaving them raw and swollen.  Tony’s hands had picked up their undulations as well, smoothing over his stomach and down his thigh, then back up again to spread across his hip and down the curve of his ass as Tony’s kiss deepened to something more. Steve felt a slight pull and found himself eagerly rolling towards Tony’s embrace, and couldn’t contain a gasp as he was pressed against Tony’s hard cock as Tony’s tongue darted deeper into his mouth.  Tony drew back and Steve’s mouth followed him of its own volition, he would swear.  Then Tony was moving on the bed, pushing pillows off and covers down haphazardly. Steve watched in a daze, still feeling sated and languid.  Tony turned to look at him, eyes glittering, pupils blown so wide there seemed to be no white left, and Steve blinked himself to realization.  Oh. 

 _Oh_.

Okay, then.  Steve felt something low and heavy settle in the pit of his stomach, some sort of odd anticipation that he wasn't sure if it was about getting it over or something else. Moving up the bed, he saw that Tony had left a pillow in the middle, and he had the absurd thought that this was thoughtful.  He lay down on his stomach with the pillow under his hips and turned his head in Tony’s direction.  He felt Tony’s hand run through his hair and then Tony was moving to position himself behind him.  He spread his legs to give him access and felt Tony nudge his knee up, then lean down to press a kiss to his hipbone.  “It’ll be easier this way,” Tony said quietly, his voice low and strained, as if every word took effort.  Steve nodded and shifted his knees up, spreading himself further.   He heard Tony rustle about in the bed and the squelch of the tube again.  He couldn’t help but tense up as he felt Tony’s hand rub gently over the cleft of his ass, but he didn’t move away, didn’t so much as twitch when a finger was pressed into him to the knuckle, but instead forced his body to relax and allow the intrusion.  Tony pushed his finger further in, and it felt odd, true, but not bad-odd, just different and then he moved it and _ohjesusfuck_ that was good.  A second finger probed at his entrance and then was pressed slowly in, and he definitely felt the burn with that one as it stretched him open.  He hissed out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as Tony moved his fingers around, hooking them deeper and then scissoring them in swift motions.  Steve let out a moan that was part pain, part need and then felt a third slick finger added, and okay that was less fun, but then Tony was moving them, pressing them deeper, stretching him wide and then a quick, sharp upward jab and Steve felt the breath leave him and his vision blacken and he was sure he shouted, but he had no idea what.

Tony was pressing quick kisses down the line of his spine while his fingers did things to Steve’s body that Steve’s mind couldn’t comprehend and he could hear him murmuring things, good things, but he couldn’t focus enough to understand what it was, just that it was good, Steve was good, and it was all just too much, but when he didn’t think he could take anymore, Tony’s fingers were gone and he felt empty and incomplete and felt himself press his hips upward and spread his knees wider and knew, God he knew what he must look like and what Tony must think of him and what he was, and it wasn’t like that was going to be a shock for Tony considering, but Steve couldn’t help the rush of shame he felt any more than he could stop himself from letting the words tumble from his lips in quick, stuttering gasps, “please, Tony, please,” he repeated, beyond caring what he sounded like. 

After all, it was what he was, at least for the night.

“God, Steve, just…” he heard Tony take a shuddering breath, and he knew what he was behaving like, wanted to stop, but couldn’t help himself, too overwhelmed by what Tony was doing to care.  And then he felt something else pressing against his entrance, hard and insistent and groaned through the pressure, the burn, the stretch, _Godtoomuchgoodyes_ and then the head of Tony’s cock was inside him and he let out a breath and a groan and gripped the sheets as Tony pressed in further, then further still, burying himself to the hilt inside Steve.

Tony stayed motionless for a moment, then began to pull back and Steve felt his body try to follow him of its own accord, but then Tony was pushing forward again, surging up inside him, filling him and he was so full, so very full and then again and again and Tony was thrusting, long, slow strokes, but it wasn’t enough.  Steve made a strangled sound and pressed his hips back, spreading his knees further and heard Tony loose a choking gasp and felt the tempo of the thrusts speed up, Tony’s hips snapping in quick, sharp movements, then felt Tony’s weight shift and bit as Tony lowered himself, bracing his hands on either side of Steve and began pumping at just the right angle and there, oh God, there and Steve buried his head into the mattress to keep from screaming and then felt Tony’s thrusts turn wild and lose all sense of rhythm and then there was a spurt of warmth inside him as Tony pumped into a him a few last times before his head lolled down against Steve’s back, his breath coming in short, panting gasps.  “Good Christ,” he heard Tony swear and felt him collapse, boneless, onto Steve’s back. 

He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, with Tony inside him, splayed on top of him, breathing heavily.  He felt Tony pull out and heard him move from the bed to another room that Steve assumed was the bathroom.  A few minutes later, he saw Tony return, pick his boxers off the floor and redress, then sit on the edge of the bed.  He wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen now.  He could still feel tremors running through his body, his breathing still shallow and strained. 

Of course, it wasn’t like they were going to cuddle, Steve thought as rational, higher brain function began to return.  Tony was clearly done.  He was probably just waiting for Steve to catch up.  He shifted up and then slowed his motions because, wow, okay, he could definitely feel that.  Sitting up rather gingerly, he looked at the clock.  Almost midnight.  He realized that he had not thought the logistics of this out at all when he’d agreed to Tony’s offer.  He had exactly seven dollars in his wallet, certainly not enough to get a cab from…wherever he was…back down to the apartment he shared with Bucky and Clint in East L.A.  He actually had no idea how this was supposed to work. 

“Um…so, I’ll just be going now.  I mean, if that’s…if that’s okay?”  he said.  He saw Tony’s back stiffen, but then Tony nodded jerkily.

“Of course.  Happy will get you wherever you need to go.  Jarvis will see to it.  If there…if there is anything else you need…” Tony responded, his voice oddly flat.

“No, um, thanks.  Thank you,” _Geez, get it together_ , “I’m…I’m fine.  I’ll just…I’ll just go.” Steve said, scrambling from the bed now.  His clothes were in the living room, so he grabbed the discarded towel and without looking back, moved out the door as fast as he could, closing it quietly behind him.  He quickly made his way to the living room, where his pile of clothes waited.  Dressing in a hurry, he didn’t bother with the jacket or many of the tiny, frustrating buttons.  Looking around, Steve remembered that Tony had said someone called Jarvis would help him. 

Tony had said someone named Mr. Jarvis would help him, but Steve hadn't seen anyone else around the house earlier. Maybe some kind of butler? God, how humiliating. Staring at the empty room and feeling utterly stupid, but with no idea what else to do, he called out softly, “Mr. Jarvis?”

“Hello, Sir, how might I be of assistance,” came a disembodied British voice.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve said, jumping and spinning around, looking for the identity of the mysterious voice.

“A common mistake, Sir, but I am merely Mr. Stark’s AI.  I run the house and see to Mr. Stark’s personal affairs,” the voice responded primly. 

A snarky, slightly blasphemous artificial intelligence runs Tony’s house?  Of course it does. _I’ve clearly fallen down the rabbit hole_ , Steve thought.

“I need to get home,” Steve said, feeling even more stupid than before because now he was actually talking to the ceiling.

“Of course, Sir.  I’ve already requested Mr. Hogan bring the car around.  He will take you wherever you need to go,” the voice, Jarvis, Steve thought in amazement, replied.

Sure enough, minutes later, Steve saw headlights outside in the drive.  Having no idea what to say to Tony or how he was supposed to arrange payment, he left one of the cream embossed business cards of the agency, black spider hovering above a phone number, sitting on the kitchen counter.  He stepped out into the crisp night air and watched as Tony’s chauffeur, Mr. Hogan, the voice had called him, hopped out and opened the door to a Rolls Royce.  He wondered if his night could get any stranger.  On the drive back, he learned he’d been in Malibu and Happy, which was Mr. Hogan’s name, was the genial sort who liked to talk and loved all things sports, so they spent most of the ride debating the relative merits of the Dodgers’ pitching roster.  Steve had to stop and wonder what Happy thought about this, taking home someone Tony hired for the evening, but Happy treated him as nicely as if he was any other guest of Tony’s.  When they reached his apartment building, he hopped out and wished Happy a good night, thanking him profusely for the ride.  He supposed he should tip him, but he needed two dollars for the bus to work in the morning and figured the remaining five would’ve been an insult. 

He found himself slowing as he walked up the steps to the fifth floor apartment he was currently sharing with Bucky, his best friend, and Clint, someone Bucky had met at work.  They all worked for one of the local construction companies, working on office buildings downtown. Bucky had gotten him the job shortly after he arrived from New York.  Bucky worked on the welding crew.  Clint did heating and air conditioning work.  It was Clint who had first suggested this particular line of work, saying he’d done it a few times and how it was a great way to make a quick few hundred dollars.  Steve had brushed the idea off at first as ridiculous, but as things came closer and closer to a point with his mom and the situation with his finances got more and more desperate, it had started to sound like a more attractive option. Bucky, on the other hand, was adamantly opposed to the whole idea.  He’d argued strenuously against this.  But, when it came time tonight to get ready, Bucky had helped him do the bowtie, knowing Steve’s fingers would never be able to finesse it. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to face Bucky right now.  He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with everything that had happened tonight, but knew he couldn’t hide anything from Bucky.  Never had been able to. 

He let himself into the apartment and made his way as silently as possible to the couch where he slept.  When his mom had her accident, Bucky had been kind enough to offer Steve a place to crash for a bit while she recovered. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but the weeks had turned into months as Steve learned all about traumatic brain injury and other phrases, like “maximum medical improvement.”  Sinking to the couch, Steve put his head in his hands.  This whole evening was completely messed up.   He had no idea what to make of his evening with Tony.  It still held some dreamlike quality now, in the darkness of the night, that he was sure would fade come the morning.  But for now, he decided he’d hold onto that.

Looking up, he caught sight of Bucky leaning in the doorway between the living room and his bedroom.

“You’re back,” Bucky observed succinctly.

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve honestly intended to say yes.  But it came out as “I don’t know.”

He felt the couch dip as Bucky sat down beside him.  “You know I said this was a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know, Buck,” Steve said, because he’d heard this spiel before.

Bucky was shaking his head.  “Not because I’m all against it, you know.  I mean, I know Clint does it.  And, hey, consenting adults and all that.  I’m not one to talk.”

“No,” Steve said with a slight smile, “you’re not.  Are you even here by yourself tonight?”

Bucky grinned.  “What do you think?”  Steve just shook his head in amazement.

“But…but the thing is, Steve, you’re not me.  And you’re not Clint.  This…this isn’t you.  And you are not okay with it, I don’t care what you say.  I’ve known you practically your whole life.  Sex for money?  That is so not you,” Bucky said, and despite the flippancy of his words, Steve could see the concern in his gaze. 

Steve let his head dip down to his chest.  “Well…if you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.”

The silence was answer enough, he supposed.

“Was the guy okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve cleared his throat, “Well…I kind of…traded?  I mean, the first guy, well, he was okay, I guess, but I…well, I met this other guy and he…he…he was nice,” Steve stammered.

“Nice?” Bucky repeated, completely unconvinced.

“Yeah.  Nice,” Steve said.

“Okay, whatever you say, man,” Bucky responded, clapping Steve on the back and getting up from the sofa.  “Try to get some sleep, dude.  You look like crap,” Bucky said, heading for his bedroom.  “Oh, and the hot water’s out again,” he smiled.  “Welcome back.”

 Just great.

Steve stretched out on the sofa as best he could.  He knew that tomorrow he was going to have to face the music with Ms. Romanov. He’d abandoned the client he had been assigned and gone off with some random guy he met all because the guy had asked nicely. 

He was so fired.

Truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Whatever it had been with Tony, the idea of doing that again, with someone new…he just couldn’t.  Bucky was right.  He wasn’t built like him or Clint.  He couldn’t trade partners every other night and be okay with it, consenting adults or not.  The thought of getting into another limo with someone like Hammer made his stomach twist into knots.  He had literally no idea what he would do about his mom’s situation, but that didn’t change the fact that this was obviously not the solution, however desperate he’d become.  Slowly relaxing once he’d made a decision, he drifted off to a deep sleep.

So deep, in fact, that he didn’t wake up at his usual crack of dawn and consequently missed the 7:05 bus to downtown and was late to his shift on the construction crew, which resulted in quite the lecture about punctuality and responsibility and do-you-want-to-keep-this-job-let-alone-get-extra-shifts-Rogers?  On the construction elevator up, he adjusted his hardhat and tried to focus on the day ahead, but his mind was full of his evening with Tony.  His body was full of dull ache that was somehow satisfying.  He kept rubbing at the place on his collarbone where he knew there as a mouth-shaped bruise, the slight prickle of pain every time he rubbed it a reminder of last night.

Not to mention the phone call he knew he was going to have to have with Ms. Romanov.  She was scary enough as it was. Telling her he’d ignored pretty much everything she’d told him his first night out was not something he was looking forward to. At all.  This was probably not the best day to be working with heavy machinery.

Once his shift ended, he caught the bus home and managed a quick, cold shower before picking up Bucky’s phone, having long ago given up his own, and working up the nerve to call the number on the card with the spider on it.  He prayed for voicemail, but the phone gods were not with him.

“I wondered when I’d hear from you,” Ms. Romanov answered.

Steve held the phone away from his ear, startled.  “Um, hi Ms. Romanov.  Um, I wanted to talk to you.  About last night,” Steve ventured.

“I’ll bet,” Ms. Romanov said.  “I got a rather disgruntled call from Mr. Hammer last night.  He claimed you left him high and dry at the gala last night.  That is a problem, Steve.”

“I know.  I know, really.  Look, I’m so sorry, really, I didn’t mean to cause a problem for you, I swear, I just…well, I guess I didn’t really hit it off with Mr. Hammer and then I met this guy and he said he’d pay more, so…”  he made himself stop rambling.

“Yes.  Yes, well, you understand that we have a reputation to uphold with our clients. They expect to have the evening we promise them and we can’t have our people making their own deals at the last minute.  It’s bad for business, Steve,” Ms. Romanov said tersely.

Steve sighed. This was going even worse than he’d imagined, and that was saying something.  “I know.  I completely understand.  I’m so sorry and if I lost you business, well…I will certainly do everything I can to see that you are paid back, I swear.  I…l should tell you though…I don’t think I’m cut out for this.  I mean, I appreciate the opportunity and all, but I just…don’t think I can do this again,” Steve finished. 

“Well…” Ms. Romanov began, and Steve noted that her voice sounded a bit strange.  “The thing is…the thing is Steve…Tony Stark.”

Steve started at Tony’s name, unsure what she meant.  Tony…Stark?  That sounded familiar somehow.

“Tony Stark is…well, let’s just say he’s a huge get.  I know agency heads on six continents that would sell their own daughters to slavery to have Tony Stark on their client list.  They’ve dangled their best in front of him for years and he has never so much as nibbled.  But you…you show up and in one night, bam!  I’ve got Tony Stark calling _me_.”  Steve could hear the clear question in her voice, and then he managed to process what was saying.

Tony called her?

“I’m going to have to comp Hammer a couple of freebies,” she was saying. 

“Um….well, if I can…I mean, I could maybe pay…” Steve tried, unsure what exactly he was offering. 

“I told Stark I was billing him,” Ms. Romanov said with a low laugh.

That didn’t sit well.  “I don’t know that that’s really fair…I mean, it wasn’t Tony’s fault that I…well, that I left Mr. Hammer for the evening.  It doesn’t seem right to charge him for that,” Steve said, frowning at the idea.

“Steve…” she started, and he could tell her guard was up and she was being cautious now, “Steve, Stark didn’t care about the money.  He said I could send Cirque du Soleil to Hammer and put it on his tab.”

Okay. Well.  Steve didn’t know what to do with that.  It still didn’t sit right with him.  After all, he’d been the one to ditch Mr. Hammer.  Tony’d had nothing to do with that, though he found that he was glad he hadn’t said anything to Tony about why he’d been so eager to leave Hammer behind. 

He was about to argue more with Ms. Romanov when she cut in, “In fact, Stark didn’t care about anything to do with the money, not the exorbitant amount I quoted him or anything else. The one thing he did care about…was, in fact, quite insistent about to say the least, was that I was not, under any circumstances, to send you to Hammer.”

Steve felt the silence hang heavy over the line.  He wanted to offer some explanation to Ms. Romanov, some way to make that seem like no big deal, but was at a loss as to how to do that because he really didn’t know what it meant himself.

“He wants to book you again. Tonight,” she said, a question in her voice.  “The fee I quoted him was insane, and he didn’t so much as blink.  This is a good opportunity for you, Steve.  If you are agreeable, he’ll send a car for you.  Dress is casual.  You’d just be going to his place.” 

Tonight?  Steve felt his insides swirl at the thought.  Tony wanted to see him again.  He swallowed heavily.  He’d decided last night that he couldn’t do this.  He wasn’t built this way.  Bucky was right.  This kind of thing…it was for other people, not him.  He simply could not continue this.

“Okay,” he heard himself say.  “What time?”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve showered, cold, which was probably a good thing considering, and changed into khakis and a dark blue button down shirt, one of the few decent ones he owned.  Shortly before the appointed time, Steve watched from the building’s fire escape as a maroon Bentley pull up the curb in front of his building.  One advantage of this he supposed was that there was absolutely no chance of mistaking Tony’s car for anyone else’ s in this neighborhood.  He saw Happy unfold himself from the driver’s seat and head up the steps to the building’s front doors.  A moment later, he heard the apartment buzzer ring.

“Sugar Daddy’s here!” he heard Clint yell from his position on the sofa in front of what looked like Bachelor in Paradise, and Steve was rather appalled he knew that.  Bucky, sitting next to him on the sofa, cuffed the back of his head sharply.  “Ow!  Watch the hair, dude.  All I’m saying is that I end up with freaking Grandmother Willow, who, no seriously, get this, puts her teeth in a jar by the bed, and that one ditches his client, which usually earns a visit from the Not-So-Nice-Saint-Nick, and instead ends up with Romanov all gleeful, which is just plain scary and wrong, and Tony Stark’s driver picking him up.  Life is not fair.” 

“Maybe the universe just favors the nice guys every now and then,” Bucky teased. 

“Fuck the universe man, I want my own chauffeur to Easy Street,” Clint groused. 

Steve had taken his short lunch break to visit the library annex near the construction site and Google Tony, so Clint’s comments at least made sense.  Tony Stark.  Stark Industries.  Graduated MIT at seventeen, took over his father’s company a few years later, turning it from one of the premier weapons manufacturers into something far more, covering all kinds of various technologies from the elegant StarkPro computers and tablets, to even a clean energy project that Tony himself was apparently spearheading.  And Tony was rich.  Obviously, Steve had known that by the house and car with driver, but there was rich and then there was Rich.  Tony was not rich like Steve comprehended the idea, where one had a nice house and car, took spectacular vacations and ate out a lot.  Tony was rich like there was a list and Tony was number four behind a couple of oil-rich sheiks and some hedge fund investor.  No wonder he hadn’t cared about the money.  Steve tried not to be disappointed that Tony’s easy acquiescence to Ms. Romanov’s demands had not been eagerness or anything to do with Steve, just the fact that even this exorbitant amount of money was nothing to someone like Tony.

Then there had been the incident in Afghanistan a couple of years ago.  There wasn’t much in the way of details in the articles he’d read, but it helped explain why Tony didn’t want to remove his shirt.  _Insurgent attack_ , they’d said.  _Convoy destroyed.  Kidnapped.  Captivity_.  Then the dramatic rescue led by Lt. Col. James Rhodes among others, who was apparently a close friend of Tony’s and worked as some kind of liaison between Stark Industries and the Air Force.  Upon his return and recovery, Tony had set about making a number of controversial changes at the company, which were the subject of many of the financial articles he’d scanned.  Impact on stock prices from new ventures somehow being tied to the question of Tony’s mental state.  Steve couldn’t help feeling affronted on Tony’s behalf.  Tony wanted to move the company to something that could benefit millions if it worked, providing a clean, sustainable energy source that could power hospitals, dams, water filtration stations, and the like, all at a fraction of the cost of delivering that kind of power today and so, naturally, Wall Street questioned his sanity.  There was apparently a lot of dissention on the Stark Industries Board of Directors about it as well, even rumors of an attempted ouster.  The corporate world had always been largely beyond Steve’s orbit, but the idea that they’d want to remove Tony for trying to do something good after everything he’d given to the company, nearly died for it, seemed beyond the pale.

Steve walked through the tiny living room towards the door, ignoring Clint’s cat calls, “Whoo-hoo!  Nice, Rogers.  Stark got a prep kink?  Tell him you’ve been naughty and got sent the principal’s office,” Clint snickered.  Bucky shoved him half off the sofa.  “Hey!” Clint shouted, affronted. 

“Leave him be,” Bucky said flatly.  He spared a look at Steve.  “This is a terrible idea.” 

Steve didn’t really have anything to say to that.  Bucky had hated this whole idea from the moment Clint brought it up. And it wasn't like Bucky was exactly wrong, after all. It was a terrible idea.  Hadn’t he decided last night that he was done with this?  He had to admit that he was less sure of that than he had been when he’d agreed to it on the phone earlier with Ms. Romanov, now that the moment was upon him.  But…it had been okay last night.  Better than okay, if he was honest with himself.  It was hard to admit enjoying something like that, but he couldn’t deny that when Ms. Romanov had said Tony wanted to see him again, something sharp and hot had spiked through his chest, settling low in his stomach.  He was pretty sure it was anticipation.

“Did you call Wilson about the hot water?” Steve asked. 

“Called, wrote, sent smoke signals, had some carrier pigeons shit out a message on his car, you name it.  Guy is the worst building supe I’ve ever seen.  I have half a mind to get some guys from work to come out and take a look,” Bucky responded, frustration evident in his tone.

“Nah,” Clint chimed in, “They’d probably want to fix everything, and what would we do without our three purely decorative burners and the hallway Seizure Strobelight?  I’m this close to figuring out the coded messages its sending me.  And I personally feel that what the lightswitch in the kitchen actually turns on should just remain one of life’s mysteries.  Like those big stone-faced guys on that island.  We just aren’t meant to know.”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached for the doorknob.  “See you guys later,” Steve said in parting.   He could feel Bucky’s eyes following him as he left.

He was down the stairs and out the door, greeting Happy with a genuine smile.  Happy opened the back passenger door for him and he climbed in, sinking back into the deep, leather seats.  The ride back to Tony’s place was pleasant enough.  He made small talk with Happy from time to time, wondering briefly how odd this must be for the chauffer, but mostly just watched the world go by.  He’d missed most of it last night, but much of the drive down the coast was stunning.  They pulled into Tony’s driveway, the gate swinging open for them automatically, and arrived back at Tony’s house in what seemed like less time than last night’s trip had taken, but that was probably because last night’s drive had been a bit of a blur.  He hopped out of the car on his own, nodding his thanks at Happy and trying to walk nonchalantly to the front doors.  Standing in front of them, he searched for a doorbell on the flat walls, but nothing was obvious.  Feeling rather stupid now, he was about to knock when a disembodied British voice announced, “Welcome back, Sir.  Please come in.  Mr. Stark will be with you momentarily.”  With that, the front doors opened on their own, because of course they did, Steve thought, smiling a little. 

He walked in to what was now a somewhat familiar entry, looking longingly at the Pollack before heading for the living room.  It was empty, and he turned his head to the ceiling to ask JARVIS, but then heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  He hadn’t really noticed the stairs last night, too focused on Tony and what was going to happen, and wondered curiously what was down below.  But then Tony’s head appeared at the top of the steps coming to a halt as he reached the living room level, and he stopped wondering about anything else.  He smiled a little lopsidedly in greeting.  “Hi,” he said uncertainly. 

At that, Tony grinned, “Hi, yourself.”  Tony stopped for a moment and seemed to be taking him in, looking him up and down in that way that he had of focusing so intently on Steve that it managed to make him both incredibly self-conscious and a little turned on.  More than a little. 

Steve cleared his throat, unsure what he was supposed to do now that he was here.  He’d spent all afternoon thinking about this and now that he was standing here…he was at a loss.  He shifted back and forth on his feet nervously.  Seeing Tony again sent flashes of last night through his mind, the things he’d felt, the things he’d done.  He felt an embarrassed flush warm his cheeks.  God knows what Tony must think of him, rushing back here a mere few hours after leaving last night.  Should he take off his clothes, like last night?  He wasn’t sure if that was expected now.  It was still light out, the big windows affording a gorgeous view of the sunset.  Any other time and it would have made his fingers itch to sketch it, but now, now he felt exposed by all that glass and light without the cover of darkness to offer any sense of privacy.  But, he’d come here.  This was the deal.  He knew that, and he’d still come, so now was not the time to decide to be a prude about it. 

“Do you…” he started.

“There’s food,” Tony said at the same time.

Steve stopped himself, not sure he’d heard right.  “Food?”

“Yeah, you know, dinner and stuff,” Tony said, heading for the dining room that Steve had paid little attention to last night.  A large wooden table dominated the room, surrounded by plush chairs and, now that he noticed it, laden with all kinds of take-out boxes.  Tony waved his hand at the spread, “I wasn’t sure what you liked,” which Steve translated to “So I just ordered one of everything.”  Now that he saw and smelled the food, he realized he was actually quite hungry.  He’d woken up late this morning, skipped breakfast in what turned out to be a futile attempt to catch the bus and make it to work on time.  He’d had a jelly sandwich for lunch because Clint had been eating the peanut butter out of the jar with his fingers and Steve just wasn’t that hungry just yet despite the fact that it was near the end of the month so their grocery supplies had dwindled quite a bit in anticipation of the upcoming payday.  He felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. 

“That…that sounds great, actually,” Steve said, following Tony to the table and sitting down in the place that had been set beside Tony.  Everything looked amazing, though he only knew what a couple of the dishes were called.  He’d always been able to eat anything though, so started piling his plate with food, before realizing he was probably being extremely rude.  He turned to Tony with an apology forming only to find Tony leaning back in his chair, hiding a smile behind his hand, eyes dancing.

“Please,” Tony indicated, waving at the table.  “Help yourself.”

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Steve asked.  At that, Tony added a few items to his own plate, much more discerning than Steve.  Steve looked up to find Tony watching him, and couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward.  He hated the silence.

“So…so, at work today, Bucky, my friend Bucky, he welded a man into a toilet,” Steve said, smiling at the memory.

“Excuse me?” Tony coughed, choking on a forkful of noodles. 

And then Steve was off, telling Tony about Bucky and his feud with the foreman, Johnson, who had told Bucky to redo some work that was completely fine, better than fine in fact, because Bucky was always outstanding when it came to the work, but Johnson was an ass who liked to see how high he could get people to jump, and how this led to the poor man getting welded shut into a port-o-potty.  Tony was bent over holding his stomach laughing by the time Steve finished. 

“They had to get a special crew to come get him out,” Steve finished through his laughter.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s face that color red before.  I’m surprised he didn’t take a swing at Bucky right then and there.  Can’t say as how I’d have blamed him, though Bucky’s right about how he can be sometimes.  Bucky, well, he and his team, they’re really good.  He and Johnson hit the skids on the last project they were working on, and it’s been one thing after the other ever since.  You haven’t even heard the one about the dummy they threw off the roof in the middle of a city inspection.  I thought Johnson’s head was going to explode.” 

“Your friend didn’t get in trouble?  Not that I don’t admire the rebel spirit, mind you,” Tony asked, leaning back in his chair, grinning madly. 

“Nah, Buck and his team are really the best around at what they do.  They call themselves the ‘Howling Commandos,’ believe it or not.  With a straight face.  The higher-ups won’t let Johnson get rid of him, much as he’d like to.  Not many people actually can do the kind of precision industrial welding Buck and his team do,” Steve replied, frowning a bit, because as funny as it had been at the time, it had still ended up with Steve being the one assigned the clean-up task, simply because Johnson knew he and Bucky were friends and he couldn’t get at Bucky directly, so Steve was the next best thing.  Bucky had at least apologized and bought Steve a beer after work. 

Tony had stopped laughing, Steve noticed, staring down at his empty plate. 

“So…if he can’t get rid of Bucky, what does he do?” Tony asked casually, twirling a spiral of noodles onto his fork. 

Steve shrugged.  “Not much he can do, I suppose,” he said, thinking about the roofing detail he had tomorrow, pushing the tar around in the heat with that nauseating smell all day. 

“Uh-huh,” he heard Tony reply.  “Well, remind me never to piss off your friend, then,” Tony said jauntily, standing up from the table.   Steve stood, too, and started clearing off the table. 

“Leave it,” Tony said.  “There are…people who handle that.  Or something.  I guess.  Hell if I know.  But don’t worry about it.  If there aren’t people, I’ll get some.”   

Steve laughed, continuing to pack up the containers and clean off the plates, ignoring Tony.  “You can’t just leave it out.  It’ll go bad.  And I don’t mind, really.”

Tony threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender and started haphazardly helping Steve clean up the mess.  Before long, Steve was batting at Tony’s hand while Tony tried to grab at various things with his chopsticks.  “Would you just…geez, you’re like a twelve year old, I swear,” Steve said in exasperation, undermining his attempt at being stern by grinning widely the whole time.  Carrying everything to the kitchen, he packed it carefully in the refrigerator.   Tony leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, watching him.  Steve set the last container in the fridge and shut the door.   It hit him that the evening had shifted while he was packing away leftovers.  He felt a flutter in his stomach, nervousness mingled with anticipation.  Turning around, he lifted his eyes to Tony’s. 

“Wanna watch some TV?” Tony asked, head tilted to the side.

“No,” Steve replied, somewhat to his surprise, and he walked over to stand in front of Tony.

“Good.  Me neither,” Tony said huskily.  He took Steve’s hand and pulled him lightly along to the bedroom.  Pushing the doors open, Steve followed Tony into the room, which was now actually lit and gave Steve a chance to look around.  The room was huge, with a sunken sitting area, bar, workstation, television the size of a small movie screen and what he assumed were the doors to a bathroom and closet. 

And the bed. 

It didn’t look as if anyone had made it up from last night, the pillows still strewn on the floor and sheets askew.  That brought a blush to his cheeks.  _We did that_ , he thought, _and it’s been like that all day_ , and felt a hot spike of something shoot down his belly to settle in his groin.  Tony had stopped in front of him and was now watching Steve’s eyes as they fixated on the bed.  Steve’s throat was suddenly dry.  Then Tony’s hands were unbuttoning his shirt and he forced himself to relax as Tony slid it off his shoulders and moved his hands down to unbutton his pants.  Tony lowered the zipper, but instead of taking them off, pushed his hand inside to cup Steve’s cock through his briefs, while his mouth kissed and licked a path down Steve’s neck and across his collar.  He felt his hips buck towards Tony’s hand and a soft moan escape. 

“JARVIS, dim the lights,” Tony said quietly.  Steve was thankful for the bit of cover, but forgot his embarrassment when Tony moved his hand inside Steve’s boxers to cup his balls.

“Jesus,” Steve stammered, bringing his hands up to grasp Tony’s shoulders for support. 

“Bed.  Now,” Tony said, his voice strained.  Steve kicked off his shoes and the rest of his clothes followed.  He moved to the bed, then, unsure what was called for, rolled onto his stomach like last night.  He heard Tony shrugging of his clothes, or at least most of them as he noticed that Tony kept his undershirt on again, and felt the bed dip as Tony climbed in.  He leaned over and kissed a slow path down Steve’s spine.  Tony continued to move his mouth over Steve’s body, appearing to be in no hurry for anything else.  He used his tongue and teeth, scraping and sucking, seemingly at random, but it was driving Steve wild, not knowing what to expect, each touch of Tony’s mouth ratcheting up the anticipation until Steve thought he was going to go mad.  As Tony sucked gently on the narrow ridge of his hip, Steve couldn’t help but grind down into the bed, a whimper falling from his mouth.  Tony smiled against his skin, placing a light kiss over the spot.  And then playtime was over, apparently, as Tony grabbed the tube from the bedside table and squirted it onto his hand, rubbing it between his fingers to warm it.  Steve pressed his face into the mattress, afraid of the sounds that might escape if he didn’t, as he felt Tony spread him apart just enough to dip one finger inside, slipping in easier than he recalled from the night before, and there was a moment of lingering soreness before Tony started to pump it gently in and out, loosening him.  He wasn’t sure how long that went on, but when Tony added a second finger, it didn’t hurt, just made him feel full.  After the frenzy of last night, this felt different, slower, more intimate.

“Let me see you,” Tony murmured, so Steve turned his head to look at Tony, kneeling between his legs. Whatever it was Tony saw there must have been satisfactory because Tony groaned and threw his head back and Steve felt the fingers inside him begin to work him more, pressing deeper, pushing him apart, and angling just so.  By the time Tony added a third, Steve was done with waiting, too full of want to care, just pushing back against Tony’s hand and grabbing at the sheets for purchase.  He watched through half-lidded eyes as Tony withdrew his fingers and moved behind him, felt his body stretch at the invasion, clench then release as the head of Tony’s cock pressed in.  Tony withdrew a little, leaving on the tip inside, and then pushed forward in one long thrust, burying himself deep within Steve.  Steve was only able to utter Tony’s name, over and over, a request, a demand, a prayer, and Tony was thrusting in long, languid strokes, hands on Steve’s hips, nonsense words of praise that nevertheless managed to make Steve feel good, so good, that he could be good like this for Tony, as Tony pushed in and out, over and over again.  And then he felt Tony’s pace pick up, become more erratic, his own body tightening in response, heard the echo of Tony’s long, low groan and a few more strokes and warmth shot through his abdomen as Tony collapsed forward, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, breathing harsh and he came back to himself. 

“God, Steve…” Tony began, then just buried his head against Steve’s shoulder again, shaking it back and forth.  He didn’t pull out right away, just lay there for a moment, hands running up and down Steve’s body.  Finally, with a grimace, he withdrew, leaving Steve feeling limp and heavy and sore in that odd way that felt satisfying.  Steve waited for his breathing to return to normal and some semblance of feeling to come back to his body, before forcing himself to roll over.  Tony ran a hand over his chest, bringing it up to cup his jaw and turn his head to face him so that they were only inches apart.  There was something in Tony’s eyes that Steve couldn’t identify, but then Tony was kissing him, deep and long, and Steve stopped wondering about it, letting Tony’s tongue and mouth move over his with wild abandon.  He didn’t move as Tony’s hand snaked down to wrap around his cock, just turned off his mind long enough to let his body have this, as Tony worked his cock to hardness and then through the tremors as he came.  Steve let the sensations roll off him, just feeling the pleasure of Tony’s hand and Tony’s mouth.  He couldn’t focus on anything beyond that, reducing the world to this bed for the moment and his body liked that just fine.  He didn’t have to think about cold showers or scraping tar in hundred degree heat or whether his mom would ever be able to say his name again, could just let Tony take care of him and it felt so good, so very good, to just let it all go for a moment. 

He heard Tony’s soft footfalls as he padded to the bathroom.  Reality slowly returned and Steve found himself blinking and struggling to get his mind back into gear.  Tony handed him a soft towel, and for a moment Steve just stared at it stupidly.  Then another thought occurred to him.  “Um…would it…would it be okay if I showered here?  Before I left, I mean?  Its just…well, the hot water in the apartment is out again and…if its okay, I mean…”  he stammered, feeling utterly ridiculous now. 

“Of course,” Tony said.  “If you need help with anything, just ask JARVIS.”  Steve nodded, unsure what Tony meant by asking JARVIS for help, grabbed his clothes and headed the bathroom.  Closing the door and turning on the light, he looked at Tony’s shower.  And realized why Tony had mentioned asking JARVIS for help.  The shower was like a water park without the slide.  Jets of all different kinds adorned the walls, a granite bench was carved into one wall and a keypad with more technical displays than the first moon rocket was built into one wall.  Okay then. 

“May I be of any assistance, Sir,” JARVIS asked. 

“Jesus!” Steve jumped, startled.

“Its JARVIS,” the voice corrected.  “If you like, I will take the liberty of running Mr. Stark’s usual settings.”

“Um…yes.  Please?”  Steve said, laughing.  The shower was amazing.  He didn’t want to leave, but felt it would probably look bad if he spent too much time in here after…well, after.  Stepping out and grabbing a large, incredibly soft towel from the shelf, he dried off and started to reach for his clothes.  Then stopped himself.  Tony liked looking at him, he thought.  Tony liked looking at him a lot.  Tony was probably out in the bedroom now, most likely dressed and waiting for Steve to leave so he could go to bed or do whatever it was that he did at night.  Steve realized that he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw Tony.  He wanted Tony to ask him to come back.  Without letting himself think anymore on it, he wrapped the towel around his hips and picked up his pile of clothes.  Walking out to the bedroom, he put the pile of clothes on the bed and dropped the towel to the floor.  He couldn’t bring himself to look up, but he knew without a doubt Tony was watching him.  He hoped his hands didn’t shake too much as he dressed.  Thankfully, the buttons on his shirt were bigger than the buttons on the dress shirt last night.  He didn’t think he could have managed that.  When he was finished, he headed out the bedroom doors, sparing only a glance about the room as he left. But it was enough. 

Tony was standing at the bar, a tumbler of something forgotten midway to his mouth, eyes glazed and dark, mouth hanging slack, watching Steve with an expression that Steve could have sworn was filled with longing.

The next day, Ms. Romanov called and told him to be ready by six o’clock. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STOP READING!!!! There is a Bonus Chapter in my Thank You Fics that is intended to fit between chapter 5 and chapter 6. I almost just added it, but then didn't want to be all George Lucas about changing things, so feel free to read this as originally posted or stop now and go read the bonus chapter. I think it adds a lot to their dynamic, but that is totally up to you. Thanks for reading, however you choose to read it!
> 
> Bonus chapter here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4221948/chapters/9780972

And so it went.  Steve spent his days working at the construction site and his nights at Tony’s.  They had dinner, talked, laughed, sometimes actually did watch TV or a movie.  They had amazing, passionate sex that left Steve wrung out, aching and sated...and then Happy drove Steve home. On a whim, Steve brought his sketchbook out one Saturday and worked on a sketch of the skyline while Tony was on a conference call.  Monday evening he arrived to find an easel and assortment of the finest materials he’d ever seen set up by the window.    “This is amazing,” he found himself saying, more just to the air than anything.  Because it was.  A more beautiful set than he’d ever seen, let alone imagined getting to work with. He traced his hands over the line of colored pencils and ran his fingers over the set of oils, delicate brushes and even a wooden palette that he could tell was the kind crafted by hand of fine wood, not the mass produced ones they sold in most stores.  He should refuse the gift, but the sight of Tony shifting back and forth on his feet, hands tapping together in a frantic rhythm told him enough, so he smiled his thanks, which seemed to be enough because Tony waved his hands in the air as if it was nothing, but Steve could see a flash of something that looked like relief cross his features.

He often found himself spending his weekends curled up on the sofa in Tony’s workshop, reading or sketching or just listening to Tony chatter about whatever was going on in the workshop at the moment.  He loved the helper bots, and when Tony told him they were supposed to be learning bots, though he claimed they rarely learned anything useful, Steve took it on as a project to teach them various tasks and games, enjoying the bright light in Tony’s eyes as he watched Steve interact with them.  He asked Tony about the clean energy project that was taking up so much of Tony’s work hours, and got to hear the excitement in Tony’s voice as he talked about the possibilities he foresaw for it, as well as the struggles with the SI Board over the practical applications and profit potential. 

_“Much as I wish I could just wave my hand and make it happen…the bulk of SI is built around weaponry.  Always has been.  This would be a huge change.  I think the company could withstand it, but I’ve got a lot of employees to consider. They’ve been building bombs for years….this….and the Board…stockholders…hell, I don’t know.  I don’t even know if it will work,” Tony said tiredly one evening, throwing the blue diagram that was hovering in front of him into a virtual trashcan with a frustrated swipe._

_“Yes you do,” Steve said confidently._

_“Ok, yes, I do, but there are still a lot of obstacles,” Tony replied._

_“You’ll solve them,” Steve said, not looking up from his sketch._

_Tony laughed.  “I wish the Board had your certainty.”_

_“You’ll convince them.  And if you can’t…well, it’s your company right?  Got your name on it and everything.  Seems like it should be doing what you want it to do,” Steve shrugged.  Corporate politics seemed like a bunch of kindergartens arguing over the crayon box to him._

_“True, but the stockholders would freak.  The stock price would drop, at least initially.  Until the market figures out what this can do,” Tony said._

_“Pretty sure there’s something called ‘investment risk’ out there.  Seems even I’ve heard of that and the last thing I invested in involved a few lemons, some water and sugar,” Steve replied evenly._

_“Got an answer for everything, don’t you?” Tony said, but he was smiling that fond smile that Steve liked.  The company was Tony’s business, obviously, and Steve didn’t know enough about it to get involved, but he knew Tony and if Tony said this would work, then it would work._

_“You have the opportunity to help people, really help.  Actually make the world a better place.  I just think, if you have that chance, well…you should take it,” Steve said simply._

Tony had just stared at him, then shook his head and scrubbed his hands through his hair leaving it in that ridiculous state of disarray that Steve liked.

Steve smiled at the memory.  So things were going well, all in all.  It took Steve awhile to identify the feeling that gathered in his chest over this time, but finally realized it was happiness or something so close to it that if he could just call it that long enough, it might actually be true.  Things were going remarkably well in a lot of ways, in fact.  Work at the construction site was good.  Johnson had been transferred or quit or something, Steve didn’t quite know the whole story, but the new guy was both competent and nice.  He put Steve on the interior painting detail Steve had asked for back when Bucky first got him the job, which was close enough to art for Steve to take pleasure in it. 

Their hot water got fixed, finally.  Instead of the Wilson showing up with his toolkit and telling them why it couldn’t be done or was going to take two weeks for some part, a whole maintenance crew showed up.  They fixed the hot water, got the burners working, updated the wiring and even replaced the Seizure Strobelight (“Now I’ll never know what it was trying to tell me,” Clint had said sadly, shaking his head).   Bucky said the building was apparently ‘under new management,’ whatever that meant, but it apparently meant that whoever owned it now was taking a bit more interest in making the place livable.  They were even installing central heat and air in the building, to which Bucky had replied “Welcome to the 1970’s!” but happily ditched his noisy window A/C when their apartment was done first.  Best of all, Steve was able to secure his mom a spot at the private treatment facility.  It specialized in severe traumatic brain injuries like hers, and while nothing was guaranteed by any means, the doctors at least had a plan and spoke about improvement instead of moving on.  At least it made him feel that he was doing something other than walking away. 

Each week, he stopped by the agency to pick up an envelope filled with a ridiculous amount of cash.  More money than he’d ever seen in his life, handed casually to him, all business-like.  He even signed for it.  As much as he wanted to pretend that he was having some sort of relationship with Tony, the envelope was a much-needed reminder that this was business.  Nothing more. 

He dressed carefully for the night, black slacks and the deep blue shirt that he knew Tony liked.  Walking out to the living room, he found Bucky sitting on the sofa eating a slice of cold pizza and holding a bottle of beer.  He felt Bucky’s disapproval wash over him. 

And here was the other less than bright spot.   The more time Steve spent with Tony, the more disgruntled Bucky became.  Steve knew he was just concerned, but Bucky’s concern hit way too close for comfort.  For the first time since he’d gotten that horrible phone call and found himself explaining to the nice lady in student services that he had to drop out of art school and go to California because there had been an accident, the crushing weight that had settled on his chest had lifted a bit these past couple of months.

He saw Bucky start to say something, but cut him off.  “Don’t start. Please, Buck?” Steve said, trying to edge out the door before this became a thing. 

Bucky was shaking his head.  “Again?  Really?  What the hell are you doing, Steve?” 

“Just…don’t.  I know you worry, but its fine.  Really,” Steve assured him.  It was mostly true, after all.

“You’re lying to yourself if you really believe that,” Bucky said.  And there was too much truth to that for it not to sting.  “You’re playing at dating this guy for Christ’s sake, but that’s not what this is, Steve.  Next thing you know, you’ll be going for long walks on the beach together.”

Steve looked down, shuffling his feet in embarrassment.

“Oh God.  You went for long walks on the beach, didn’t you?”  Bucky moaned with disbelief.

“No!  No.  Nothing like that.  Just…I wanted to sketch the sunset, and he knew a place with a good view of the cliffs in the foreground and so…we sort of hiked up there,” Steve rambled, knowing it sounded lame.  It had actually been one of his favorite afternoons, trying not to laugh as Tony maneuvered the path in a suit and Italian loafers, insisting that a little nature wasn’t any reason not to look fabulous.  Which all went to hell as a rainstorm caught up with them just as the last of the sun dipped below the horizon and they were forced to walk back getting drenched.  He really hadn’t been able to hide his laughter then.  Wet Tony was adorable.  Like dropping a cat in the bathtub, all hysterical affront and spikey hair. 

“Where do you think this ends?” Bucky asked, standing up and moving between Steve and the door.  “I’ll tell you. It ends with you getting hurt when this guy gets tired of playing house and moves on, that’s where it ends.”

“That…I mean, if that…”  Steve tried, but he couldn’t move past the thought of Tony moving on to someone else.  But, of course, Bucky was right.  There was no happy ending here.  And then what would he do?  The situation with his mom wasn’t exactly going to sort itself out in the short term, if ever.  Find a new client?  The thought made his stomach turn.

“Steve,” Bucky said, not completely unkindly but with a firm resolve, in that quiet, serious way that Bucky, for all his frat boy shenanigans, could manage to pull out seemingly at will when it came to Steve.  “You are not dating Tony Stark.  What you are doing is letting him fuck you for money.  That’s it.  Oh, he may play nice for now, sure.  He’s getting all the sex he wants with no strings.  Meanwhile you…you want real.  And this…thing…with Stark is about as far from real as it gets.  How do you think he sees you?  Does he take you out to meet his friends?  Go to any fancy parties lately?  I saw he was at some big bash last Saturday night.  Clint had E on, and there’s Stark, pretty as you please, living it up.  And where were you?  At home, waiting for his car to come get so you could meet him.  After.  After, Steve.  You’re an after.”  Steve felt his shoulders slump and put a hand up to stop Bucky from saying more, because he really, really did not want to have this conversation now, but Bucky, as usual, ignored him.

“You get in that car and every night, it just takes more and more out of you.  I see it happening and God-dammit if I know what to do about it.  You’re about as stubborn as they come, Rogers, when you get something in your head.  But I know you.  And I know what this is doing to you.  You can say you’re happy all you want, but this isn’t happy.  This is you trying not to fall apart and calling it happy because calling it what it is would destroy you.  I see the way you stare at that phone, waiting for it to ring.  You have no idea what your face looks like when that buzzer rings and his car pulls up.  You’re in so far over your head it isn’t funny.  And the only way this ends is for you to get chewed up and spit out.  So…so just don’t go.  I know the money is great, and you’re helping your mom and that’s fantastic, it is, but she’d never want you doing this, Steve.  Never.  Hell, she’d kick my ass for letting you.  I said we’d find another way, and we will.  Just…just stop this…this _thing_ with Stark,” Bucky ground out, voice strained with emotion.

Steve drew a shaky breath, shook his head, “I’m not doing this with you tonight, Buck.  I-I can’t do this with you and then…”  Giving up and wanting to just get the hell out of here, he brushed past Bucky and threw open the door.  He’d heard enough.  Bucky knew him too well, saw too much, things Steve didn’t want to deal with right now.  It was like having all his worst fears spread out before him in bright Technicolor. 

“I have to go,” he said, stopping with his hand on the doorknob, halfway out of the apartment.

“No.  You don’t,” Bucky replied sadly, shaking his head, hands fisted at his sides.  “If you did, I’d understand that.  Wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand.  This…you _want_ to go.  And that’s just going to end so, so very badly, Steve.”

Steve was out the door and taking the steps too fast, wanting to be anywhere but here and listening to Bucky and his truths.  He heard Bucky’s heavy footfalls following him, but didn’t stop.  He wrenched open the building’s front doors, and felt Bucky grab his shoulder, spinning him around and pressing him against the vestibule wall as the front door to the building banged open.

“Don’t.  Just don’t go.  Steve…”  Bucky’s face was a mask of pain now, and Steve knew his own must look the same because it hurt.  It hurt because Bucky was right.  He knew it.  He didn’t want to face it right now though, wanted this fantasy to hang onto a little longer.  The illusion of it was better than the alternative.   Why did Bucky insist on pulling aside the curtain?  Why couldn’t he have this, just for a little while?

Even if it wasn’t real.

Bucky’s hands came up to grasp both sides of his face.  “Look at me.  You know I love you, Steve.  I’ll be there for you no matter what.  ‘Til the end of the line, right?  But this…don’t do this.  Seeing you do this, its killing me.  Please.  It’s me, asking you, not to do this.  Don’t go to him tonight.”

Steve jerked his head away, unable to meet Bucky’s gaze.  He drew a shaky breath.  He’d never been able to deny Bucky when Bucky asked something of him.  Bucky was the one that had always been there, taken a young, skinny Steve under his wing, had his back when he inevitably got in over his head.  But this…he couldn’t.  A part of him wanted to give in, take away that look that had been hovering on Bucky’s face the past months.  But, Tony was waiting.  Tony, with his laughter and wit and kindness and incredible intelligence and dark eyes and hands moving over Steve’s body making him feel things he’d never imagined.  That he’d get into the car had never really been on the table. 

“I have to,” Steve said quietly, his mouth pulling down into a grimace.  “Please, Buck.  Please.  You…you know what you mean to me.  Don’t be…Please,  I can’t do this without you.  I need you, always have…but I have to do this,” Steve pleaded.  Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s for some acceptance, pleading with him to understand.  Bucky’s hands slid from his face, his body rigid with tension. 

“Fine.  Fine, Steve.  You go.  And when this all blows up in your face, don’t come moaning to me about it,” Bucky spat out, pushing away from  him and stalking off, nearly knocking into Happy who had parked the car and gotten out to open Steve’s door.  Steve sighed.  He hated being at odds with Bucky.  Particularly when he knew what Bucky was saying was true and he was only saying it because he genuinely cared.  He turned to find Happy watching him, door opened and waiting for him.  Numbly, he climbed into the back seat of the car.  He couldn’t help replaying Bucky’s words over and over in his head, couldn’t think of anything but the hard truths Bucky was forcing him to face.  Luckily, Happy didn’t seem in a mood for small talk this trip any more than he did. 

When they pulled up to Tony’s drive, Steve climbed out and headed on inside as usual.  “Hey, JARVIS,” he called politely.  He sat down on the sofa to wait for Tony to come upstairs, idly picking up one of the small sketchpads that had appeared in various places around the house.  It was taking Tony a bit longer than usual to come up, so Steve started drawing and before he knew it, had a cartoon of Wet Tony looking quite disgruntled as a little black raincloud hovered over his head.   Finally, he heard Tony’s footfalls coming up the stairs, slower than usual this time.  Tony, always so full of energy, typically practically bounced up the stairs.  Steve was so ready to see him though, he didn’t pay it much mind, just stood and smiled as Tony appeared. 

Tony stopped dead at the top of the stairs, looking at Steve with a hard expression that Steve couldn’t place. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly.  “I missed you.” 

Tony’s head snapped up a bit at that and Steve could see the lines of his face harden.  He was about to ask what was wrong, but then, without a word, Tony turned abruptly and walked to the dining room, sitting down heavily in his chair.  Steve followed, confusion welling up inside him.  Tony didn’t speak, still hadn’t greeted him, and Steve wasn’t sure what he’d missed.  Ok, clearly, Tony was upset about something.  Well, certainly everyone had their off days.  Not like Tony wasn’t more than entitled to a few.  They ate in silence for a bit, or, rather, Steve ate and Tony pushed food around on his plate, staring at it moodily. 

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Fine,” Tony replied.  “Why wouldn’t everything be fine?”  Tony smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  Steve was suddenly reminded of something he and Clint had watched on the Discovery Channel.  A shark’s smile with dead pools for eyes.  Ok, so Tony didn’t want to talk about it, at least not with Steve.

“So, at work today, Clint fell asleep in one of the HVAC shafts and they couldn’t find him for like four hours,” Steve began, clearing his throat and hoping he’d be able to distract Tony from whatever was bothering him.  Tony always seemed to enjoy hearing about his life, though Steve couldn’t fathom why.  “Bucky wanted to duck-tape in place, but they ended up putting a picture of the new foreman on his jacket and taping his hand, uh…rather inappropriately positioned,” Steve recalled, hoping to illicit a smile from Tony.  “I think Bucky’s gonna be sorry he started that with Clint, but Bucky always…”

Tony’s hands slammed down on the table, making the silverware jump and clink loudly against the china.  “I think that’s enough storytelling,” Tony said, a bitter twist to his mouth, looking anywhere but at Steve and something terribly like pain flared in his gaze for a moment before he shuttered his expression completely. 

“Tony?  Tony, what’s wrong?  You…You’re obviously upset about something.  Maybe I can help?”  Steve stammered, thrown totally off guard by Tony’s outburst.  That, finally brought Tony’s gaze to his for a brief moment before he turned his head to the side, as if he couldn’t stand to look at Steve.  Steve was utterly baffled.  Had he done something?  Said something?  He’d only just gotten here tonight. 

Tony stood up in one quick motion and walked swiftly away from the table.  He stopped when he reached the living room.  Steve got up, too, not knowing what else to do, and started clearing the dishes.

“Leave it.  Just fucking leave it, Steve.  It doesn’t matter,” Tony said from across the room, his voice sounding oddly constricted. 

“I don’t mind, really, it’s no big deal,” Steve replied, continuing to clean up.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” Tony shouted sharply, his voice echoing off the room.

Steve stopped moving, one plate held in his hand, his whole body stilling.  A hot, hard spike of shame rushed through him.  He looked down and swallowed.  Oh.  Well.  Okay, then.  That…that was true, he supposed.  Tony had just never said it so plainly.  He put the plate back down on the table and looked up at Tony’s back.  Tony nodded jerkily at the sound, apparently satisfied, and stalked down the hall to the bedroom. 

Steve found himself staring numbly around the now-empty living area.  What just happened?  What the hell was going on?  This wasn’t Tony, at least, not the Tony he’d gotten to know.  Something was definitely wrong, but he had no idea what it could be.  Something to do with the company, maybe?  There was definitely enough there to cause plenty of stress, but this…this seemed directed at him.  But, he’d just gotten here.  Not even he could have screwed up that fast.  He followed Tony’s footsteps down the hall and into the bedroom, ready to ask Tony what was going on, but stopped short when he found Tony already undressing. 

“Tony?  What…did I do something wrong?  I mean, you’re clearly upset.  I think we should talk about it before we…” Steve waved his hand toward the bed’s general direction and tried to sound confident. 

“Do we?” Tony asked, his voice weary and heavy.  “Do we really need to talk, Steve?  What do you have to say that I could possibly want to hear?”

Steve opened and shut his mouth, no sound coming out.  He felt his chest constrict, all the air leaving his lungs.    Steve blinked stupidly, staring at Tony in confusion.  He had no idea what was going on.  For the first time since their very first encounter, it occurred to Steve that he should leave.  Have JARVIS get Happy to bring the car around. 

“Just…”  Tony looked at him over his shoulder, mouth a hard, thin line, whole body rigid with tension. “Just get in the bed, Steve. That’s what you’re here for, right?” Tony said bitterly as his hands moved to unbutton his pants in quick, harsh motions.  But before he could look away, Steve caught something pleading in his eyes, something desperate and wanting.  Steve felt a white, hot stab of shame at Tony’s words.  However true they were, it hurt like hell to hear them fall from Tony’s lips like invective.  He blinked and looked down at the floor, struggling with what to say or do in the face of Tony’s apparent derision. 

 “Why are you even doing this?” Tony asked, his voice hitching a bit, catching Steve’s eye briefly before turning to stare down at the bed.

 _“Sometimes they ask_ ,” Ms. Romanov had said.  “ _They like to think of themselves as good people, and good people would ask.  But remember, Steve.  They don’t want the truth.  They don’t want to know about how you need some extra cash for school or really want to be an actor.  They are paying for the fantasy.  The one where they are special.  It isn’t about the money, see?  That’s the trick.  They know it’s a lie, but it’s a lie they want to hear.  That you don’t care about the money.  You just want to be with them.  That you love this.  That lets them have their time with you without the guilt, see?  They don’t want to be someone’s last resort.  They want to believe you want them the way they want you.”_

“It isn’t about the money,” Steve said.  “I just really like being with you.”  As the words fell from his lips, they didn’t feel like a lie at all.

But Tony’s face crumbled, a flash of agony lighting his features.  “Tony?” Steve started to reach up to him, but Tony stepped back and away from his hands and took deep breath, running his hands through his hair and looking everywhere but at Steve.  Steve didn’t know what to make of that.  He’d said what he was supposed to say, after all.  But it had been the wrong thing, apparently. 

“They put that on flashcards for you?” Tony asked with an abrasive, terrible sounding laugh that didn’t sound like anything was funny. 

Tony’s head dropped to his chest and he put his hands on his hips, stranding that way for a long moment.  Finally, he raised his eyes, dark pools that locked on Steve and there was so much Steve could read on his face, anger, guilt, shame, a whole mix of emotions on vibrant display.  For once, it seemed, Tony wasn’t hiding anything about how he was feeling, but Steve still didn’t know why, what had driven Tony to this point. 

“Even knowing…Christ, even knowing what you…I still want you, God help me,” Tony spat out, disgust dripping from every word.

“ _Even knowing what you…are_ ,” Steve’s mind finished.  Even knowing what he was, Tony wanted him. Didn’t want to want him.  Didn’t want to want someone like him, someone who was… _ah, fuck, just say it_ , _Rogers_ , a…whore.  But he did. 

He just wanted him.  And Tony hated himself for it.

Shame, deep, gut-wrenching shame washed over Steve.  He swallowed and started to get up, but Tony’s hands came up to cup his head, tilting his neck back so Steve’s vision contained nothing but Tony.  There was a manic desperation ghosting behind Tony’s eyes, some kind of determination solidifying there that Steve couldn’t read.  Then Tony’s mouth was on his and his lips parted immediately, allowing Tony’s tongue entrance.  Tony swirled his tongue around, tracing the lines of Steve’s mouth, darting in and out, frenzied and wild.  Tony moved his hands to unbutton Steve’s shirt and push it off his shoulders, hand roaming over Steve’s frame as he did.  Tony kept his mouth pressed to Steve’s, beard scraping along Steve’s jaw, as his hands pressed Steve back and down against the bed.  Tony made short work of Steve’s fly, and Steve lifted his hips to help Tony pull his pants the rest of the way off.  He knew he should stop this.  Bucky had been right.  Tony had been playing a game and no one had told Steve the rules.  No, that wasn’t fair.  Steve had decided to ignore the rules.  Now, it was all laid bare.  Tony wanted this part of him, but nothing more.  He should have enough dignity to get up and walk out, but instead his hands came up to wrap around Tony’s shoulders and wind up through his hair, pulling Tony’s length along his body, letting their limbs entwine. 

This time, it was Steve that kissed Tony, startling the other man as he pressed his mouth against his, letting his lips part and tongue slip along Tony’s lips, seeking entrance.  Tony let out a groan and opened his mouth, giving Steve all the permission he needed to explore fully, letting his tongue war with Tony’s as they tumbled onto the bed.  He realized this was the first time that he had actually been the one to initiate the kiss.  It was always Tony taking the first step, closing the distance between them.  When Tony pulled back, Steve saw something flicker in the deep brown pools of his eyes, like a switch had been flicked, and then Tony was kissing him again, hands on the sides of his face, moving Steve’s mouth under his.  This time, Tony’s lips were bruising, teeth scraping and biting, leaving Steve’s mouth swollen and sore, sensitive to the slightest swipe of Tony’s tongue. 

He didn’t care if this was all Tony wanted from him.  This was enough.  It would have to be.  He tried to put everything he was feeling into his kiss, giving back as much as he could, and he heard Tony moan, low and deep against his mouth.

As Tony pressed him back with a hand on his chest, Steve automatically scooted up the bed and started to roll over onto his stomach, but Tony’s hands stilled him.  “Like this,” Tony said, shaking his head, voice low and spiked with something heavy, pressing Steve onto his back and going back to kissing Steve’s senses away.  He tried to bring his hands up to touch Tony, wrap them around him and pull him closer, but Tony grasped his wrists and pressed his hands back to his sides.  Tony kissed him deeply again, and then drew back, looking down at Steve with such intensity that Steve felt his cock grow harder just with the force of the scrutiny.  Tony pushed his legs apart and up, bending them at the knees and settled between then.  There was something manic about Tony’s motions tonight, everything a little too sharp, too hard, too much, the pall of desperation clinging to every move.  Maybe he hoped to find a way to stop wanting this, to stop wanting Steve, get it out of his system somehow.  Scratch the itch so it would go away.  Exorcise the demon.   

He sighed deeply when Tony’s mouth left him and his body pulled away, missing the solid warmth, but stayed as he was.  He was wholly unprepared for Tony to bend over and swallow down the length of his cock in one swift motion.  Steve’s hips bucked wildly without any conscious thought on his part, and that probably should’ve ended that right then and there, but Tony rode it out, relaxing his throat and letting the base of Steve’s cock tap against the very back of it, before Steve managed to control himself enough to stop.fucking.moving.  He looked down to see Tony’s s kiss-swollen lips wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, sucking lightly.  Tony’s eyes were closed, his face a mix of rapture and concentration.  Steve felt the flat of Tony’s tongue along the underside of his shaft and forced himself not to move his hips again, but then Tony swirled his tongue around the tip and applied even more suction and Steve found his hands were gripping Tony’s hair without any memory of putting them there.  Tony was moving faster now, up and down, loosing him out so only the head of his cock sat buried inside Tony’s mouth, then swallowing him back down again.  He felt Tony moan around him, the vibrations thrumming through his cock and he heard himself make some sound between a gasp and a sob.  Tony hollowed out his cheeks and began sucking furiously, working his tongue up and down the slit on head of Steve’s cock.  Steve was undone, coming apart at the seams.  Everything had been reduced to a single point, a single sensation, just Tony’s mouth around him, all warm, wet heat and suction.  He forced his fingers to let go of their grip on Tony’s hair and tried to push him away.  “T-T-Tony…Tony, stop, I’m going…I’m almost there, Tony…please, God, just…” he choked out, mind blanking on anything more.  But Tony didn’t release him, if anything, just took him deeper and sucked even harder.  Steve’s head tipped back, vision blacked out, whole body going taunt as a bowstring, hips jerking unevenly and felt the warm rush as he came, spilling himself down Tony’s throat. 

It took awhile for him to come back to himself, felt his body still trembling as if trying to reassemble itself into the proper form.  Tony’s head was bowed, forehead leaning against Steve’s thigh, mouth wrenched in a pained grimace. 

“Tony…God, Tony…I,” Steve couldn’t form any logical thought beyond that, but hoped that got the point across.  He let his head loll back, body going boneless and just rode out the bliss. That was always good, of course, but that had been…tonight…jeez.  He didn’t know what to make of it.  He didn’t get much time to ponder as Tony shifted back between his thighs and pushed his legs apart, reaching down to cup his balls and gently rub, lifting them up and down.  Steve nearly came off the bed.

“T-Tony, just…God, you don’t…Jesus-fuck,” Steve cursed as Tony dipped his head down to lick the wrinkled skin.  He forgot anything else he was going to say, do, think or feel as Tony continued to mouth at his balls and then pushed his knees apart and moved lower, licking a stripe down to his entrance.  Steve was sure he must have passed out, certainly that couldn’t have been him making those high, keening noises, little gasps and pleas, as Tony wound his tongue up and down, over his hole again and again.  Just when Steve thought he couldn’t take any more, the sensation far too much, he felt Tony press the tip of his tongue ever so slightly inside.  Steve’s whole body went rigid, whatever embarrassment at the sounds tumbling from his lips gave way to sheer feeling, as Tony’s tongue pressed further, dipping inside and swirling around.  Someone was shouting and he wanted to tell them to stop, quiet down, but couldn’t think words, just feelings, just Tony, moving his tongue around inside him, darting in and out and licking the rim of his hole before plunging in again.  Tony moved his mouth away long enough to look up and find Steve’s eyes, and Steve knew what he must look like at this point. There was no sense denying it or pretending any different.  No more games to play.  When Tony jammed two fingers in deep and up, hitting that spot of nerves just so, he would’ve come off the bed entirely if Tony hadn’t been pressing him down.  It wasn’t words spilling from his mouth, just unintelligible sounds, speech given up long ago as the sensations washed over his body in waves, leaving him shaking and breathless.

Steve didn’t know how, but he was hard again, felt Tony’s hand wrap around his cock, moving up and down as he felt himself grow harder still. Tony’s other hand moved to grab the tube of lube and spread a generous amount over Steve’s cock.  Tony continued his slow, undulating rhythm, and Steve felt impossibly hard.  Tony’s other hand moved behind him for a moment and then, before Steve could form any kind of coherent thought, he felt the bed shift under Tony’s weight and then watched in mute amazement as Tony turned and sank himself down onto Steve’s shaft, taking him all in with a long, low moan.  Steve thought he was going to pass out from the feeling of it, buried deeply in Tony like this, feeling his warmth clench and release around him, so tight, God, so tight.  He couldn’t help but thrust up a bit and that seemed to be all the encouragement Tony needed because he was moving up and down, slow at first, as if getting used to it, and then faster and harder until he was propelling himself up and slamming back down on Steve, again and again and Steve gasped as his hips bucked wildly and he felt himself come for a second time, this time shouting Tony’s name and felt a warm gush hit his legs as Tony came at the same time.  He lay there stunned for a moment, felt Tony pull off of him and his whole body retreated to slackness.  He was utterly torn apart, wrecked beyond belief, still trying to process what had happened.  That had been…unexpected.  Fantastic, good God, yes, but unexpected.  He had no idea what to think.  It would probably help if he could think in actual words, but that was going to take a moment.

He blinked a few times to clear his vision.  Tony wordlessly handed him a towel from the bedside, and he cleaned himself up as best as he could, though honestly couldn’t bring himself to care much at the state he was left in. He felt Tony roll over and lay beside him, not touching, but close enough Steve could feel the warmth emanating from him.  And now we’ve reached that time of the evening, folks, Steve thought crazily as he tried to move his legs enough to get up from the bed, realizing that his body was still not exactly fully functional yet.  He swallowed nervously. It was going to be even more horrifying if he got out of bed and promptly collapsed from sheer pleasure overload.  He didn’t understand.  Tony had been so upset, so angry at himself, at Steve, probably at the world, all because he wanted Steve, but hated the thought of wanting someone like Steve, and then…this?  It made no sense. 

Maybe he’d been wrong, Steve thought.  Someone like Tony could have any of a hundred reasons to be upset on any given night.  Maybe he’d let Bucky fill his head with worries and had been projecting his own insecurities onto whatever Tony was dealing with?  None of this had to necessarily mean that Tony only thought of him as…for this.  After that…surely not. 

“Stay,” Tony said, so quietly Steve almost missed it, concentrating so much on how to offer to help Tony with, well, whatever he needed.  When he did comprehend, he felt a bolt of joy surge through him.  Tony wanted him to stay the night? 

“Just…stay…tonight.  Don’t go back to…don’t go.  Just stay,” Tony mumbled.  Tony wanted him to stay.  Maybe he wasn’t as upset about the situation as Steve had imagined if he wanted him to stay the night?  There had to be something more to this than just sex if Tony was asking him to stay.  Whatever connection Steve had felt, maybe Tony felt it a bit, too. 

Or at least…at the very least, if he wanted him to stay the night and just be with him, Steve thought with warmth flooding him, then surely it had to mean something more to Tony as well.  Maybe Tony didn’t see Steve as purely a transaction, just sex for money and that was it, just some…some whore to be bought at Tony’s whim. 

He opened his mouth to tell Tony absolutely, that he didn’t think he could move anyway, unless Happy planned to carry him up five flights of stairs, but Tony’s next words sucked all the breath from his body, filling the empty spaces with a despair so deep, that later when he thought about it, Steve wasn’t sure how he didn’t crumble into pieces right then and there.

“I’ll pay extra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and kudo-ing (is that a word?). I truly appreciate it. Makes my day, which probably says something about me, but there you go. Anyway, thank you and hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

When Steve awoke the next morning, the bed was empty.  JARVIS informed him that Tony had left already, despite the early hour.  He didn’t have to be a genius to know that was about as explicit a direction as a flashing ‘Exit’ sign.  Happy drove him to work in silence, stealing stone-faced glances at him in the rearview mirror.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s phone from his toolkit over lunch, ignoring the grimace that crossed Bucky’s face.  At some point over the last few weeks, Clint had swiped Bucky’s phone and changed Ms. Romanov’s ringtone to “Maneater.”  Steve hadn’t been able to figure out how to change it back, or else he did and Clint just kept changing it again.  He wasn’t sure.  He thought Clint liked seeing him blush every time the distinctive song rang out through the apartment, or worse, one time in Bucky’s toolkit at work.

A week dragged by without hearing the ringtone even once. That pit that had been slowly opening in Steve's belly grew and grew, until finally he was able to call it acceptance.

So, okay, that was it then.  Whatever this had been, it was over.  Tony clearly was done with him, maybe that last night something of a goodbye or whatever it was that Tony needed to get past the desire for Steve that he obviously didn’t want to feel. 

The deep pit of humiliation opened up again every time he thought about it.  Why had he expected anything else?  It wasn’t like he hadn’t known what he was getting himself into.  He’d just chosen to pretend it wasn’t what it was because that was easier than accepting the truth.  Deceiving himself was not something he was usually so willing to do, and it frustrated him to no end that he’d let himself get so deeply entangled here when he should have known better, even had Bucky pointing the whole sordid thing out to him and still let himself believe there was more to it.

Because the alternative had been just too crushing to consider.  That Tony had only wanted his body, hadn’t even wanted to want that.  And when he was done with him, that was it.  No messy break-up here, kids.  Just a fat envelope of bills and a silent apartment.

And speaking of bills…there was still the matter of money looming over his head.  He had a bit saved up, but had put the deposit down at the private treatment facility for his mom.  She had gone through the initial tests and evaluations. He’d talked to the doctors.  Everything was set up to move her in, but now he had no idea how he was going to pay for it on an ongoing basis.  Why had he thought this would be some kind of long-term arrangement?  He should have been planning ahead, picking up more shifts at work or something instead of spending so much time with Tony.  He could call Ms. Romanov and ask for more work, he knew.  The thought turned his stomach, made his gut clench, but it wasn’t like there were a ton of options if he wanted to get his mom moved.  The thought of leaving her at the state institution, in that room with the moldy, cracked ceiling tiles and stink of urine and God knows what, getting perfunctory care that seemed to involve turning her to insure she didn’t develop bedsores and adjusting her feeding tube …he couldn’t do that.  Not if there was any alternative.  So.

He was basically back to where he’d been the night he’d met Tony, except now he knew exactly what he was getting himself into.  Not some vague, hazy notion of what was involved.  If he did this again, he couldn’t tell himself later that he hadn’t known.  Not this time.  It was probably better this way though, he thought.  He certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake he had with Tony, getting way too attached and letting himself think there was more to it than there was.  This was just a trade.  Something they wanted for something he wanted.  Period.  

He picked up Bucky’s phone and dialed Ms. Romanov’s number.  She picked up after a couple of rings, her voice smooth as always.

“Hello, Steve,” she said.  “How are you?”

“Um…” okay, so it was harder to actually say out loud than it had been in his head.  “I’m…fine, I guess.  But…um…well, I wanted to ask about maybe some…additional work?”  He could feel the flush heating his cheeks as he said it.

There was a pregnant pause and he held the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Is there a problem with Stark?” she asked with false casualness. 

And here it was.  “He…uh, he hasn’t…he hasn’t wanted me…to come out…um, for a week now,” Steve finished and God, that hurt to say.

“Really?  Well, that’s…interesting,” she replied.

Interesting was not the word Steve would have used, but whatever.  He just wanted this conversation over. 

“I’d just assumed you were still seeing him,” she continued. 

“No.  No, not anymore,” Steve said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Hmmm…” she said noncommittally.  “See, that’s a little odd to hear, Steve.  Because Stark has paid for this past week already.  I was wondering when you would stop by to pick up your envelope. In fact, I believe he’s booked you for…well, let’s just say the foreseeable future, shall we?”

“Wh-what?” Steve stammered, stunned.  “But…but he…I mean, he hasn’t wanted…me…to come, I mean…not since last week…”

“Well,” Ms. Romanov replied slowly, stretching out the word.  “I don’t know about him not wanting you.  But, he certainly doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.”

Steve swallowed at that.  What was going on?  Why would Tony do that?

“If he wants to pay to keep you off the market, that’s not technically against the rules, but…well, if Stark wants something more exclusive, then that can be arranged.  It’s unusual, but not unheard of.  Lucrative,” she said with a hint of speculation.  He could practically hear the wheels spinning in Ms. Romanov’s head.

“I need to talk to him,” Steve said firmly.  “I think…I think there may have been a misunderstanding. But…I mean, he always sent a car, and, well…I don’t really have a way to get up there…” _or even know if he’d let me in if I did,_ Steve thought. 

Another pause followed, and Steve heard the sounds of a keyboard tapping the background.  “Stark will be at the symphony benefit downtown tonight.  I can’t get you into that, of course, but one of my guys works valet there.  He can get you into the garage.  The big-wigs go in and out from the kitchen area instead of walking the press gauntlet.  You might be able to meet up with him there.”

“Thank you.  Thanks, I—“ Steve started, but she had already hung up.  He stared down at the phone as if it held any answers to all of this and felt a fluttering in his stomach at the thought of seeing Tony again. 

This might end very badly.  He could just let this go, take the money and figure something out in the meantime.  But, he wanted to see Tony, get some kind of answers.  If Tony only cared about the sex, then why pay for nights when Steve wasn’t even out there?  Why would he care whether Steve had other clients or not?  What he needed was a plan.

Hours later, as he followed the guy, Mike, through the bowels of the underground parking garage to the area where the chauffeured vehicles were parked, he still needed a plan.  At least one that went beyond ‘show up and see Tony.’  The pit of nervousness that had been stewing in his stomach all day seemed to dig in deeper the closer he got.  He recognized the sleek lines of Tony’s limo, with the now-familiar STARK designation on the tag. 

“Good luck, man,” Mike said, clapping him on the back a couple times and heading back to the valet stand.  Steve approached the car, unsure of what to do in the meantime.  He could see Happy’s silhouette in the front seat, reading the sports page and drinking out of a thermos with the window rolled down.  It was probably not a good idea to sneak up on Happy.  He was, at least nominally, Tony’s bodyguard. 

Steve cleared his throat loudly, watching the paper in Happy’s hands snap down as he turned around. 

“Um…Hi, Happy.  I know what this looks like, but I just need to talk to him.  I swear I won’t take up much of his time,” Steve tried to explain.

To Steve’s surprise, he saw Happy’s face harden into an angry mask.  He’d thought Happy liked him, at least liked him alright.  I mean, they hadn’t been friends or anything, but Happy had always been pleasantly jovial during their car rides.

“You shouldn’t be here.  You need to leave him alone, Steve,” Happy said, stepping out of the limo.  “He doesn’t need this.”

And okay, that hurt.  He understood Happy was looking out for his boss, but he couldn’t escape the guilt he felt at the judgment evident in Happy’s tone.  But, he’d come all this way.  Unless Happy planned to have him thrown out, which now that he thought about it was a definite possibility, he wasn’t leaving without seeing Tony.

Steve took a deep breath.  “I just…please, Happy.  I just need to tell him…just, please.  I won’t…if he tells me to leave, then that’s it.  I won’t bother him, I swear.”

“You…you won’t ‘bother him’?” Happy asked incredulously.  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to…” Happy’s voice cut off as his eyes flicked over Steve’s shoulder and then snapped back to Steve with a hard glare.

“Steve?” he heard Tony’s startled voice from behind him.  “What are you…what are you doing here?” 

Steve turned to see Tony standing behind him, a small phone held in his hand where he’d obviously been tapping out a message, now forgotten.  Steve felt his throat go dry as his gaze raked over Tony.  He hadn’t realized how much he had just missed seeing him.  Of course, Tony looked amazing.  He always did, but the tuxedo Tony was wearing made Steve think of the night they’d met and images came to his mind unbidden.  He heard a car door slam loudly behind him and turned briefly to see Happy ensconced in the driver’s seat. 

Now that Tony was standing in front of him, he actually wasn’t sure what to say.  Why are paying for something you aren’t getting?  Does any of this mean anything at all to you?  Can you please not think…that…about me?

He watched Tony’s face shut down, and knew he’d already lost.  Well, then, he supposed it didn’t really matter what he said. 

Tony brushed past him without a word and opened the door to the limo.  He stopped, with one hand braced on the door and the other gripping the edge of the limo’s roof, back to Steve.  “Why are you here, Steve?” he asked, voice coming out resigned and heavy with an odd sadness.  Steve didn’t know what to make of that, but it was something. 

“Ms. Romanov…she told me about…about the money,” Steve managed, stumbling over his words because none of them sounded right. 

“The money.  Of course,” Tony said flatly, his face blank and unreadable.  “Not enough for you?”, Tony asked, his voice brittle and clipped. 

“What?  No, no, nothing like that.  I just---“ Steve started.

Tony turned around from his position at the limo and opened his mouth to say something, but his words were cut off by a loud shout from across the parking garage.

“Stark! Well, well, well, isn’t that the sight,” Hammer called out.  “Still taking home my leftovers, I see!” 

Steve swallowed numbly and felt something prick at the back of his eyes.  He ducked his head, unable to look at Tony. 

“You missed a hell of an after-party, gorgeous!” Hammer continued as he walked to what was presumably his car.  “I’d say ‘Maybe next time,’ but I’m a bit more particular than Stark there.  Don’t much care for someone else’s leavings, myself,” Hammer crowed delightedly. 

Steve closed his eyes and held them that way, taking in a deep breath, then forcing himself to meet Tony’s gaze.

“I’ll go,” he said, turning to leave.

“Get in car, Steve,” Tony ordered, voice brusque.  Steve’s head snapped up, and for a moment he felt giddy.  It had worked, this terrible plan of his.  Somehow, it had actually worked.

“Happy, we’ll need to drop Steve at his place on the way home,” Tony finished, and Steve felt his stomach drop as a huge crush of disappointment and humiliation washed over him, Tony’s simple words managing to sting far worse than Hammer’s pointed barbs.

Okay then.  So, okay.  This was done, then.  He just had to accept that.  Whatever Tony was about with the money, it didn’t mean anything.  Probably just Tony’s sense of politeness or something. 

Steve knew he should probably refuse the ride and just walk to the bus stop, but he couldn’t have given up these last few moments with Tony for anything.  He crawled into the car without looking up and sank back into the seat.  To his surprise, Tony slammed the limo door shut without getting in and walked over to where Hammer was about to get into his own car.  Steve couldn’t see what was going on with the concrete pile-on or hear anything from inside the limo, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild with the possibilities.  Probably something along the lines of, “Dodged a bullet with that one, Hammer, too clingy by half,” Steve imagined bitterly. 

A few minutes later, the limo door popped open and Tony climbed inside.  “Let’s go, Happy,” he said, voice tight and tense.

The ride to Steve’s place was utterly silent.  There was nothing else to say, really.  At least this would let him move on, he thought.  Listen to him, he grimaced.  ‘Move on,’ as if this had been something to move on from.  Bucky had been right about the whole thing.  At least, with Tony’s generosity, he had some time to get things together and decide what to do.  Obviously, it wasn’t indefinite, whatever Ms. Romanov meant by the “foreseeable future.”  But, it would hopefully give him at least a couple of weeks.  He didn’t think he could handle thinking about that tonight.

The car stopped in front of the building housing Bucky and Clint’s apartment and Steve got out without waiting for anything further.  His foot was on the second step when he heard the other door open as Tony stepped out. 

“Steve…” Tony started, as the front door banged open and Bucky came ambling out with a cigarette in one hand and lighter flicking in the other.  He stopped and stared at Steve, heading into the apartment building and Steve knew what his face must look like. He’d never had much of a poker face, and Bucky could read him like a book. 

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky said, eyes piercing holes into Tony as he stuffed the cigarette and lighter into his pockets.  Tony, for his part, was looking back and forth between Steve and Bucky, and Steve saw his jaw clench and eyes grow hard, mouth twisting into something that was supposed to be a smile but looked anything but mirthful. 

“Let me guess, you must be Bucky,” Tony said, his voice clipped with some strange, false friendly tone that Steve had never heard from him before. 

“Stark,” Bucky acknowledged in way that clearly meant “Asshole.”  Steve looked back and forth between them.  Both seemed to be watching the other too intently to pay much attention to him, so he shook his head at the whole ridiculous scene and started up the stairs again.  To his surprise, when he reached the top step, Bucky threw an arm over his shoulder, rubbed his shoulders in an almost-hug and grinned a devilish smile.  “Good to have you back!” Bucky fairly chortled.  “Well, this has been fun, hasn’t it, Stark?  But, its time to get Stevie here upstairs.  He just looks like he needs to be in bed, don’t cha think?  ‘Night, Stark. Have a fantastic evening.  I know I will.” And he winked.  Steve was about to say something reproachful to Bucky for just being rude and…well, weird, when Tony’s voice cut the words out of his mouth.

“Happy will pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Tony bit out in a hard voice that didn’t seem to leave any room for argument, still staring up at Bucky on the top of the landing. 

Steve’s head snapped around, sure he hadn’t heard correctly, but Tony was already lowering himself into the limo and slamming the door.  He looked to Bucky in confusion, but Bucky was grinning gleefully.  He turned to Steve with a wry smile, pulling him inside the building’s front doors as the limo sped off.  “You know…” he started, scrunching his face and tapping his chin with one finger, pitching his voice in an exaggerated fashion as if he was pondering something, “You know, it’s possible I was wrong when I said Stark didn’t have real feelings for you.”

“What?  What are you talking about?  Because he asked me to come back, all of a sudden you think he has feelings…that…that makes no sense,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Steve, you’re adorable.  Clueless sometimes, but adorable,” Bucky said fondly, using his arm around Steve’s shoulders to steer him into the building. 

“That man…” Bucky sighed dramatically, “That man is so jealous, he can’t think straight.  If looks could kill, there’d be a big, Bucky-shaped crater right here on the doorstep,” Bucky said with a smile.  “I almost feel badly for him.  Granted, he’s still an asshole, but even _I_ have a soul.  Well, somewhere.  Deep down. Anyway, the point is that somehow Stark got the notion that you and I were…maybe a little more than friends…and he did not like that.  At all.  Like…at-all, at-all.”

“That…wait, what?  No, no, why would he…it makes no sense.  Wait…you…” Steve shrugged Bucky’s arm off his shoulders.  “Bucky!  You…you did that on purpose to try to…what, test your theory?” 

“Ah, come on.  He had that coming,” Bucky said without a trace of guilt.  “Got you invited back, didn’t I?  Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Are you…sure?  I mean, really sure, because he never said…I mean why would he even think…” Steve trailed off, trying not to get his hopes up again.  He didn’t think he could take much more disappointment.

“Dude.  He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d peed a circle around you,” Bucky laughed.

“Bucky!” Steve frowned at the crudeness. 

“I’m just saying, the guy’s totally into you.  Thought he was going to rip my arm off you and beat me with it.  He’s so wound up about this, it would be funny if it were anyone else but you.  I mean, sorry about that part, man,” Bucky shrugged, patting him slowly on the back with a cartoonishly apologetic expression on his face.  “Gotta give him some credit for sheer balls of steel to invite you over right in front of me though.  I mean, considering.  If I were banging you, I’d be highly offended,” Bucky said with mock grimness.  “He’s going to have the absolute fucking shittiest night though, the poor bastard,” Bucky laughed, grinning widely now, shaking his head back and forth.  “I, on the other hand, am going to sleep like a baby.”  He clapped Steve on the arm and headed upstairs, leaving Steve standing in the vestibule, feeling utterly flabbergasted by emotional up-and-down of the whole evening.

Tony was jealous?  Of Bucky?  That made no sense.  Why?  Where in the world would he even get such an idea about Bucky?  Because of the stories Steve told? 

 _I think that’s enough storytelling_ , he recalled, remembering Tony’s voice harsh and cold.  Maybe…it still didn’t make sense, Steve thought, shaking his head.  But Bucky sure seemed certain of it, and he’d always been far better at reading people as far as anything remotely like that would go.  And it was such a tempting thing to believe…Steve turned the idea over in his mind.

Tony was…jealous…of Bucky.

Tony was jealous.

If Bucky was right…Tony did care.  It hadn’t all been in Steve’s head.  Tony thought he was just doing this for the money and had someone else he actually cared about at home, but Tony still wanted him, even knowing that.  That was…well, Steve didn’t know what that was, but it sure as hell wasn’t indifference. 

He could work with that.


	8. Interlude:  Tony's POV of "discussion" with Hammer (who is an even bigger douche)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For AwkwardBlueKitty, who wanted to know, Winterstar, who should get back to writing, angelfireeast who guesses everything, and Enmuse, who loves Tony...I present...BAMF!Tony. For the win.

“Stark! Well, well, well, isn’t that the sight,” Hammer called out.  “Still taking home my leftovers, I see!” 

Tony watched Steve’s shoulders slump and head dip down, saw the deep red flush creep across his cheeks, evidence of how Hammer’s words made him feel.

“You missed a hell of an after-party, gorgeous!” Hammer continued as he walked to what was presumably his car.  “I’d say ‘Maybe next time,’ but I’m a bit more particular than Stark there.  Don’t much care for someone else’s leavings, myself,” Hammer crowed delightedly. 

Tony stared across the parking garage at Hammer.  After-party?  A fucking after-party?  What the hell had Romanov been thinking, sending someone like Steve off with Hammer?  He’d had about all he could take of this.  The thought of Hammer with his hands on Steve was bad enough, but the knowledge that the guy had planned on involving Steve in something like that…well, really, let’s face it, that was it.  Tony felt his head pound with restrained rage, thought he was going to absolutely explode if he didn’t hit something, preferably Hammer’s smug face.

“I’ll go,” he heard Steve say, his words echoing in the parking garage, reeking of such shame and humiliation to make Tony’s gut twist.

“Get in car, Steve,” Tony ordered, and heard the way his voice was shaking with anger now.  “Happy, we’ll need to drop Steve at his place on the way home.”  Much as he wanted to just plain beg Steve to stay with him again, it was pointless.  Steve had someone to go home to already.  He did not need Tony, at least not for that, not the all-consuming way Tony needed him.  He needed Tony’s wallet, which Tony had already arranged to give him.  If Steve wanted to keep doing this, that was his choice and Tony couldn’t stop him.  But God-dammit all to hell if Steve was going to do this because he felt he had to.

He took a long, steadying breath.  Do not, do not, do not lose it in front of Steve.  Don’t look at him.  _God, if I look at him_ …He knew if he saw what Hammer’s words were doing to Steve, he’d go ballistic.  He could not afford to let Steve see that, to reveal that much about how he felt.  Not when he knew that Steve wasn’t really his to begin with, he thought bitterly.  He should have known. And, of course Steve had someone.  Beautiful, wonderful, kind, funny Steve, who let Tony fuck him for money.  That had been enough for Tony, if that was all he could have.  He could pretend that it was something more. That Steve didn’t go home and have this life where Tony was just a job for him, better than some, worse than others, he supposed.  But once he knew…he couldn’t pretend anymore. 

Tony was just selfish enough not to let it stop him, wanted one more night with Steve, but then he’d asked for that little bit more, asked Steve to stay.  Stupid. Stay with him and not go back to…well.  Not go back.  Happy had said that the…guy…Bucky, hadn’t wanted Steve to go, and of course not.  Could you blame him?  Hell, Tony’d wanted to bar the door the next morning. 

Hammer smirked as Tony slowly walked over.  “Stark?  Hey, look man, like I said, I like ‘em fresh.  Why I picked that one, all sparkly and new. But…and I don’t usually do this…but…if you wanna share…I gotta tell you, I’d be down with that.  Bet he’d look pretty down on all fours,” Hammer said, raising an eyebrow and peering around Tony’s shoulder, searching for Steve. 

If he hit him, it would be immediately satisfying, true.  But, Tony was always more about the long game.

 “Split the fee?” Hammer proposed.

On the other hand, it really didn’t have to be an either-or situation, he thought a moment before his fist smashed into Hammer’s face with a satisfying crunch. 

“ _Ermagawdewbrakmyns_!” Hammer stuttered from the ground, blood pouring down his face.  “ _Wadafkmn?”_

“Justin, Justin, Justin.  Years from now, when you look back on your life and the utter and complete ruin it has become, I want to give you the gift of knowing exactly the moment when it all started to go wrong for you,” Tony said, his voice even and unflinching.  “It started the moment you referred to him as ‘leftovers.’”  With that, Tony turned and walked back to the limo, leaving Hammer with his mouth gaping open stupidly.  He got in the limo and slammed the door, resolutely not looking at Steve, who he was about to deliver to the other man who loved him.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve was on edge all day.  His mind kept replaying everything about the day before, turning it over and over again, alternatively finding support for Bucky’s theory and then, just as quickly, finding something that made the whole thing fall apart.  As seven o’clock approached, he was practically vibrating with adrenaline.  He saw Happy pull the car up from his view from the fire escape and quickly checked his appearance one last time and took a deep, steadying breath before heading downstairs.  He had to remind himself not to run to the car. 

“Hi, Happy,” he called in greeting.  The other man just shrugged and opened the passenger side back door to the Maserati.  As he walked toward the car, he heard the building’s front door open behind him, and turned to see Bucky and a dark-haired, doe-eyed woman clamoring down the stairs, Bucky’s arm around the woman’s waist. 

The young woman stopped short when she saw Steve.  “Whoa.  Like, whoa.  You have got to be Steve,” she said, sticking out her hand.  “Darcy,” she announced, by way of introduction. 

“Um, yes, Steve.  That’s me,” he replied.

He nearly jumped back when the woman squealed, “Oooohh, can we keep him? He’s so cute!”

Shaking his head and turning to Bucky, he caught him rolling his eyes over Darcy’s head.  “Um…well, it was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve replied, “but I have to go.”

“Your loss, Dorito,” the woman said, untangling herself from Bucky and pulling out a cell phone.

Steve looked at Bucky in confusion.  Bucky just shrugged.  “Yoga instructor,” he said, as if that was some sort of explanation. 

“Well…er…I guess ‘have a good time’?” Steve said with a fond, familiar smile. 

“Yeah, don’t think there’s much doubt of that, bro.  You stay out of trouble, okay?  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bucky said, clapping Steve on the back and heading towards Darcy.

“That’s a pretty short list, Buck,” Steve teased.  Bucky just smiled and waved him off, looping an arm around Darcy and saying something in her ear that made her throaty laughter echo down the block.  Steve just shook his head ruefully and climbed into the car, letting himself sink back into the seat, leg tapping a staccato rhythm against the floorboard.

Absently, he heard Happy hop into the driver’s seat and start the engine, and soon they were headed on the now-familiar route to Tony’s.

After a few minutes, Happy awkwardly cleared his throat.  “So…ah, you and that Bucky guy…you seem…close,” he said, jolting Steve from his reverie.

“Uh, yeah.  Bucky and I go way back.  We’ve known each other forever, it seems,” Steve replied absently, still running through numerous scenarios to try with Tony and discarding most of them as the heights of stupidity.  He was pretty much down to writing a note that said “Do you love me, check yes or no” when Happy made another noncommittal noise in his throat.

“It’s just…the Boss, you know.  Lots of folks…well, they just want what they can get out of him.  He’s usually pretty good at spotting them though.  The takers.  But sometimes…particularly lately…after…well, after what happened…he just needs someone to look out for him, is all,” Happy said, seemingly apropos of nothing that Steve could figure. 

“I…well, I think that’s great, Happy.  That he has you, I mean,” Steve responded, wondering what the man was about.  He’d gone from not speaking to him and looking at him like he was worse than a fingerprint on one of his newly minted wax jobs to suddenly sharing observations on Tony’s vulnerable side?

That made the man go beet red, but Steve hardly noticed because they were pulling into Tony’s drive, the security gate opening automatically for them.

“See…see, someone…well, someone could maybe get the wrong impression.  About you and your friend, I mean,” Happy said, his voice thick. 

“Hmmm…yeah, I guess…wait…what?” Steve said sharply.  Then suddenly he was remembering that night a week ago.  Bucky chasing him down the stairs, grabbing him as he was leaving.

_You know I love you, Steve…Don’t go to him tonight…_

_I need you, I always have…_

Then Bucky rushing off, all the emotion of that confrontation still fresh in Steve’s mind.  But now he saw Bucky stalking off nearly running over Happy as he got out of the car to open the door for Steve.  Happy, who had heard that part of the conversation.  Who was worried about someone taking advantage of Tony.  Who had parked the car in the garage after Steve got out.  The garage next to Tony’s workshop. 

Well, crap.

“You…you thought me and Bucky…you…you told Tony?” Steve sputtered, trying to wrap his head around everything whirling around in his head.

Happy had the good grace to look abashed.  “Just didn’t want to see him hurt, ya know?  He’s been through so much…and people, they don’t see him, not really.  They see this larger than life persona, Tony Stark, see?  Not really him,” Happy explained.  “Maybe…maybe I was a bit hasty.  I mean, I’ve seen it before, you know?  Not like with you, I mean.  Just with people and him…out for a quick buck, just lookin’ for what they can get from him.  But you…he was so…well, I worried, okay?  Thought maybe it was better to nip this thing in the bud, if you were…well, if you were not what he thought.”

“So you told him I was seeing Bucky?” Steve asked, trying to sound calm.

“Well…I told him what I saw, which, ya know, looked pretty, uh…familiar there…and that he ought to talk to you about it.  I didn’t…you have to believe me here…I didn’t think it would be this bad.  I mean, it never has before…he never…not like this.   If I’d known, I woulda kept my big mouth shut.  I wouldn’t…not on purpose…Look, Steve, I’m just sorry, okay?  I messed up.  But I just couldn’t watch him get hurt. But…I think maybe he would’ve been happier not knowing, even if it was true," Happy told him, clearly embarrassed and appalled by how things had turned out.

Steve wanted to yell at the man, put some of the pain and guilt he’d been feeling the past week onto Happy’s shoulders, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Happy clearly cared about Tony, and he had been trying to protect him.  Looking back, Steve could see how the whole thing might have looked from Happy’s point of view.  Would he have done any differently if he’d thought Tony was at risk of being used?

The car pulled to a stop in front of the house.    For a long moment, neither he nor Happy moved.

“I’m going to fix this, Happy,” Steve said firmly.  He heard Happy let out a slow breath of relief. 

By the time they arrived at Tony’s house, Steve’s whole body was thrumming with tension.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle Tony or kiss him or maybe a bit of both.  Why hadn’t Tony just asked him about Bucky?  Because the man thought he knew too much for his own good? 

Steve felt himself rushing out of the car with a quick nod to Happy’s softly muttered “good luck,” and into the house, taking the steps down to Tony’s workshop two at a time.  He typed the code into the panel on the door, a bit surprised to find it still worked as the door slid open to admit him, and stalked into the room, ready for a confrontation.

It’s always a bit of a letdown when you are boiling with pent-up frustration and the object of your ire manages to be absent while you stew, Steve thought long minutes later when no Tony materialized in the workshop.  His agitated pacing took him on yet another circuit of the room.  He was about to ask JARVIS for help, when he happened to notice something on Tony’s workstation as he walked past it for the third time.  Tucked under one of his Starktablets, Steve’s eye caught on a corner of paper.  He recognized the color and consistency of it, as well as the soft pencil lines.  Taking it by the corner, he pulled it out from under the tablet and realized it was his sketch of Wet Tony, the crinkling on the paper indicating it had been crumpled up and then flattened out again, now apparently placed under the tablet to try to flatten it out even more. 

There was something about what  that action spoke to that took the air out of Steve’s anger.  He carefully replaced it under the tablet. 

“You’re here,” Tony’s voice sounded flatly from behind him with no trace of inflection, as if it was merely an observation about the weather or any other mundane topic.

Steve turned to look at Tony and felt his heart break a little, recalling Bucky’s words about the awful night he predicted for Tony. That had apparently been something of an understatement if the dark circles and bloodshot eyes were any indication.  Tony ran a hand through messy hair and brushed past Steve to his workspace, shifting things around on the table, seemingly at random for a few moments, before giving up and leaning knuckled fists on the table for support. 

“I think we need to talk, Tony,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice even as he watched the muscles of Tony’s back tense and shift as he dug his knuckles into the table. 

“We really don’t,” Tony said, without looking up.  “Look, we never said anything about this being an exclusive thing.  I get it, okay?  This,” he waved his hand at the space between them, “is just a job.  It’s not like we’re going steady, so don’t sweat it.”  He was back to moving things about on the worktable, but with jerky, forceful movements instead of his usual careful grace.  “I overreacted.  My problem, not yours.  We’ll just pretend it never happened.  Go back to…what we had before. ”

“I don’t think we can do that, Tony,” Steve said firmly. 

“Why the hell not?” Tony shouted, tossing the wrench he’d been fidgeting with hard against the metal worktable, the loud bang echoing in the room.

“Because you’ve already taken some piece of information, jumped ten steps ahead and made a decision about it, and managed to do all of that without even so much as asking me what was going on!”  Steve shouted back, because really, he was just tired of this.  He scrubbed his face with his hand, trying to get his raging emotions back under some kind of control.  “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

Tony was silent, back hunched over the worktable, but still now.  Steve wished he could see his face, but Tony was still refusing to look at him. 

“I…I didn’t think I could take hearing you lie, but I didn’t think I could take it if you didn’t,” Tony said quietly.  For some reason, after he said it, he seemed smaller to Steve, as if he was slowly curving in on himself as whatever momentum had been propelling him dissipated. 

Steve sighed heavily.  “Tony.  Would you…would you look at me?  Please?” he pleaded.

Tony slowly turned around, raising dark eyes to briefly meet Steve’s before looking at some fascinating point directly behind Steve’s left shoulder. 

“Tony…I’m not sleeping with Bucky.  Bucky…he’s my best friend.  I’ve known him my whole life.  He’s like a brother to me.  He…was…concerned.  That I…that I was getting too involved here and you were…not.  I’m definitely not…not…with him, or anything remotely like that.  Or anyone.  I mean, there’s…there’s just you.  And…and…well, I guess I’d like it to…to be that way,” Steve finished lamely. 

Sometime during his stuttering speech, Tony’s eyes had drifted back to his face.  Steve wasn’t sure what he could read there, relief, sure, but something else was shifting through Tony’s gaze, something deeper and less defined.  He walked slowly over to stand in front of Steve, and for a moment, Steve thought Tony would kiss him, which seemed like a fine idea to Steve.  But instead, he just lowered his head and rested his forehead against the middle of Steve’s chest, letting out a long, low breath, hands coming up to grip Steve’s arms almost too tightly. They stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I would like that, too,” Tony said to the floor, relief evident in his tone, but the statement had the ring of a declaration to Steve, so that was enough.

“Just…next time you have…um, concerns?  Can you just maybe ask me before losing it completely?”  Steve said with a slight quirk to his mouth.

“Don’t get cocky,” Tony replied, but the smile was real this time.

Beer and pizza and an episode of the Daily Show later, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony as they lay curled in bed, the muted TV still flickering in the background. 

Tony was tracing circles on his t-shirt clad stomach, each one getting ever so slightly wider and it was driving Steve insane. 

“So…” Tony cleared his throat, and Steve would’ve said nervously, but since when did Tony Stark do nervous.

“There’s this dinner Friday night, after the Board meeting about the conversion to clean energy, which…well.  Let’s just say we’ll all probably need drinks after that.  They aren’t exactly sold on the idea of moving the company away from weapons.  Anyway, all SI folks.  Well, and Rhodey, but he’s family.  Pepper…she’s great.  Obie.  A few others,” Tony continued.  Steve assumed this was Tony’s way of telling him to skedaddle Friday night. 

“I thought you might like to go,” Tony said quietly, not looking up, but the circles had slowed. 

“You want me to go?” Steve frowned.  “Won’t they…I mean, won’t they wonder…?” He really didn’t know what he was asking.  Won’t they wonder if I’m a hooker seemed offensive to both him and Tony, so he just left it.

“Eh, they’ll probably like you better than me.  Pepper will talk your ear off about the newest Mondrian or whatever she’s bought.  They’re..well, they’re friends.  I’d just…like them to meet you,” Tony replied.

Steve swallowed, unsure how to respond.  “I don’t have anything to wear,” he said, because it had the benefit of being the first thing that came to his mind and also true.

“That is something we can definitely fix,” Tony said with a grin.  “I’ve wanted to see you in a real suit since the first night we met.”

“Hmmm...” Steve hummed, because the circles were dipping lower and lower with each pass, until he felt Tony’s finger hook lightly under his shirt, just above the waist of his pants, and hike it up enough to splay his palm over Steve’s stomach.  “I seem to remember it a bit differently,” Steve teased, and was rewarded with a huff of warm breath against his navel, and Jesus, that went right to his cock.  Tony was placing light kisses down the trail of hair below, causing Steve to suck in a gasp of air he didn’t know he was missing.  Then Tony was undoing the top button on his pants and lowering the zipper, Steve lifting his hips a bit to help as Tony slid the pants off entirely.  A few more tugs and his boxers followed, freeing his cock to spring up and tap against Tony’s chin as he leaned down, scraping his beard over the length.  Steve let out a gurgled, half-formed sound as Tony licked a stripe from the base to the slit at the tip.

“I want…I want to see you.  Please,” Steve rushed out, hands reaching for the edges of Tony’s clothes. 

“Okay, okay, yeah,” Tony said, making quick work of his pants and briefs, watching as Steve tossed his shirt aside, before climbing back up to capture Steve’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, before looking down and moving his hips just so, watching as the tips of their cocks met for a moment before Tony shifted down to grind against Steve, pressing their cocks together between them, the friction and pressure just enough to border the line between pleasure and pain.  Steve felt his hips buck up to meet Tony and spread his thighs to accommodate him.  He was running his hands over Tony’s arms and chest through Tony’s shirt, wishing for the feel of Tony’s skin against his.

“Can I…I mean…not if you don’t want to…but I’d like…” Steve stumbled over his words, but managed to communicate himself well enough running his hands up and down Tony’s chest.  He felt Tony’s whole body still under his.  “It…Its okay, you don’t have to, really, I just…”

“No.  No, its fine.  I just…” Tony looked away, his hand coming to rest on the center of his chest, seemingly of its own volition.  “I haven’t…since Afghanistan…”

“Tony, it won’t bother me, whatever it is, I swear,” Steve promised, putting as much certainty as he could muster into his words.  He meant it.  Whatever it was clearly made Tony uncomfortable, and Steve hated that. 

Tony brought his eyes  back to Steve’s and didn’t break the gaze as he carefully removed the wife-beater t-shirt he’d been wearing.  Underneath, even in the poor light offered by the muted TV, Steve could see fairly substantial scarring.  He sucked in a breath, reaching out, “Tony…” he whispered achingly, “What happened?”

Tony caught his hand before he could touch.  “It’s fine.  Really.  I was injured during the attack on the convoy.  One of the other prisoners, a man named Yinsen, saved me with…well, a very unconventional surgery.  I…improved it.  Then I was rescued.”  Steve was confused, until Tony brought his hand to rest squarely on the center of Tony’s chest.  It felt…odd.  And Steve realized that the flesh wasn’t really flesh.  It was a prosthesis.  Like you would see covering a fake hand or new leg for a soldier.  Just perfectly round and sitting in the center of Tony’s chest.  He heard Tony take a deep breath and then watched as he brought up his other hand to remove the covering.  Underneath, a strange blue light emanated, filling the space between them, and Steve could see something…something…working inside. 

“It sort of keeps me alive,” Tony said, and Steve’s eyes snapped to his. 

“What!?!” Steve shouted, sitting up.  “You…you’re…” “It’s fine, it’s fine, really. Think of it as a very fancy battery,” Tony explained. 

“Can I…can I…touch it?” Steve asked curiously.

He felt Tony’s breath hitch a bit at that.  “If you want.”

Steve gently placed a hand over the glowing disk, felt the warmth it gave off, the faint feeling of power of some kind running through it. 

“This…this is the arc reactor, isn’t it?” Steve marveled.  “Like what you want to build for the clean energy project.”

“Yeah…yeah…that’s…this is where the idea came from,” Tony replied. 

“You built this?”  Steve asked.  “In a cave?  In Afghanistan?  While a captive?  Tony…this…that’s amazing.”

Tony waved his hand, as if to say it was nothing, but Steve could tell much of the tension had leaked from Tony’s shoulders.  He saw Tony reach for the covering, and found himself, without thinking much about it, saying, “Don’t.” 

Tony stopped, eyes snapping to Steve’s.  “Don’t.  I like it.  It’s…it’s you,” Steve said.  “It’s bold and beautiful and impossible.  It’s you, Tony.  You shouldn’t hide it.  The world should know what you did.”  Tony was just staring at him, eyes burning with some kind of intense scrutiny, as if he wasn’t sure where the punchline would come.  “I like it,” Steve repeated.

Then Tony’s mouth was back on his, kissing him so deeply, Steve thought he’d drown from the feel of it, felt himself groan, open his mouth wider and tilt his head to the side to give Tony’s tongue better access.  He heard Tony reach over and grab the tube from the bedside table and his cock, which had been dutifully patient while he’d been admiring the arc reactor, quickly grabbed his full attention.  He felt Tony’s hand, slick and warm, rub down between their bodies to wrap around his cock, stroking up and down.  Then with a deep moan, Tony brought his own cock alongside Steve’s and wrapped his hand around both of them as best he could, continuing to rub up and down, grinding his hips this way and that, letting them slide against each other in a perfect rhythm.  When Tony’s mouth moved down to suckle at Steve’s earlobe, he took the opportunity to run his hands over Tony’s chest, fingers lightly scraping across taut nipples, then tracing the circumference of the arc reactor, eliciting some kind of half-choked noise from Tony, who had moved his mouth down lick at the place where Steve’s neck met his collarbone, but gave a sharp bite as Steve’s fingers circled the reactor. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony said, his hand losing its groove and coming to wrap again around Steve’s cock, pumping harder now as Tony ground down against him.  Steve watched in awe as Tony’s hand left his cock just long enough to pinch the head of Tony’s own cock while Tony grimaced and took a deep breath, before returning to stroke Steve’s length again, and just the knowledge that Tony was so ready just from that was enough to send Steve over the edge, body spasming as he came into Tony’s hand with a strangled cry.  Tony was still breathing heavily, his erection bouncing off his belly as Steve’s body finally settled.  He heard Tony squirt more lube into his hand and then felt a slick finger dip down to probe his entrance, pressing in all the way in one swift motion.  He growled lowly, felt his body stretching down, seeking something.

“God, just…fuck, Steve…don’t, I can’t…” Tony stuttered incoherently.

Steve ignored him and ground his hips down on Tony’s finger, pressing it as deep as he could, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough.  He needed more.  He was pretty sure he might have shouted that by Tony’s quick reaction time, as he felt a second finger press in, filling him and moving around, trying to stretch the ring of muscles.  He moved his hips up and down, once, twice, and then again, spreading his legs wider as Tony pumped and swirled his fingers.  “Please, Tony, please,” he heard himself begging in strangled, half-choked keening sounds. 

“Fuck, fuck, Steve, don’t…let me get you…” Tony ground out, working his fingers harder now. 

Steve told him what he thought of that by reaching for Tony’s cock as it bobbed against Tony’s belly and thumbing the pre-come on the slit over the head. 

Tony yowled. 

And that was apparently enough, because the next thing Steve knew, Tony was slamming into him, burying himself fully, and it did hurt at first, for a moment, as his body struggled to accommodate the invasion, but then the _burnstretchpain_ gave way to raw sensation as Tony began to move, slow at first, then picking up speed as he thrust between Steve’s legs.  Steve had a moment to think how beautiful Tony was, features sharp against the blue light, eyes on fire, before Tony shifted slightly, lifting Steve’s leg up, adjusting the angle and _holy fuck_ was Steve’s last semi-coherent thought as his back bowed and he saw white spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

Tony was repeating his name, over and over, seemingly beyond anything more complicated than that, a chorus of Steves filling the room.  Tony’s strokes got sloppier, losing the pace as his body thrummed and cracked as he spilled himself inside Steve.  A few last, shuddering thrusts and Tony collapsed on top of him, slick with sweat and mess, hair sticking every which way and a dazed, but deeply satisfied look on his face.

Steve stroked Tony’s hair out of his face, letting their breathing calm and blood start flowing back to other areas of the body.  Steve felt Tony pull out, and heard him rummage round the bedside for a towel to clean up as best they could.  Steve grimaced at the thought of Tony’s poor cleaning people. 

“Um…so…” Tony started, settling down against Steve’s longer frame, fingers tapping a rhythm against the arc reactor.  Steve wondered if he knew that he was doing that.  “You said you wanted that…earlier down in the workshop, I mean.  You said you wanted…just us.  Exclusive.” 

Steve tried to bring his brain back online enough to respond.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I…yeah.”  Because he did.  Until that moment, maybe he hadn’t quite realized how much.  There had been so much energy expended on what had gone wrong, he hadn’t let himself think too much about what could possibly go right.

And Steve knew…this was one of those moments.  He could tell Tony about his mom, tell him that he didn’t want some contract with a condo and car lease, he just wanted Tony…and about ten grand a month.  Therein lay his problem.  He still needed the money.  He had no doubt that Tony would give it to him.  If he just asked, even without saying why, Tony would give it to him.  He wanted to tell Tony though. 

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to talk to Tony about it.  How scared he was.  How he nodded at what the doctors said, but didn’t really take it in because he just wanted to shove the reports at them and tell them it was their problem to deal with, they were doctors after all.  How he was maybe a little made at his mom for cutting across the street instead of waiting for the crosswalk, though he knew that wasn’t fair and he’d done it tons of times in New York himself and that he felt horribly guilty sometimes for the moments after the accident when he’d thought, as the doctors explained about traumatic brain injury, that it would’ve been easier if she’d died.  He needed someone to talk to about these things, and more than anything, he wanted it to be Tony.  But he also knew, deep down in his bones, that telling Tony about his mom’s situation was going to hurt Tony deeply.  He wasn’t sure how to explain it in a way that didn’t make Tony feel like he’d somehow taken advantage.  He needed time to think about the best way to tell him, and with the clean energy presentation before the SI Board coming up, Tony definitely did not need the distraction.  After, Steve thought.  After the dinner, I’ll tell him.  Let him get through the presentation and then…we’ll sit down and have a real talk.  About everything.  About how he felt, which he’d given up pretending wasn’t what it was, and what he wanted out of this.  That was just a few days away, and it would give him time to think through the least offensive way to talk to Tony about it.  The last thing he wanted was Tony feeling guilty about anything.  He had nothing to feel guilty about.  This whole thing had been Steve’s idea.  He’d gone into it willingly, at least where Tony was concerned. 

He hugged Tony tighter to him and felt himself drifting off to sleep, the blue glow of Tony’s arc reactor the only thing between them.

The next morning, Steve managed to wake up at his usual time, grimacing as he forced his body to move, and untangled himself from Tony.  As he did, he felt Tony’s hand reach out to still him.

“I have to go,” Steve said, trying to keep the regret out of his voice.  “Work. You know?  That thing people do.  I have to go, Tony,” he said, as Tony’s grip tightened.

“You really don’t,” Tony said with sleepy petulance. 

Steve sighed.  Staying in bed, wrapped up with Tony all day sounded far more appealing than heading to the construction site.  He briefly considered calling in sick.  He never did that…he could take one day…but then his guilty conscience kicked in and he shifted out from under Tony’s hand to climb out of bed.  “I’ll probably be back before you have your second cup of coffee,” Steve said with a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure,” Tony said, shoving his head under the pillow.  Steve did not, absolutely did not, pause to think how adorable that was.  Steve showered and dressed quickly, surprised to find Tony up and about, wrapped in a deep red silk robe and sitting at the kitchen bar tapping away at a tablet.  A quick glance told Steve it was his clean energy presentation for the Board.  Tony handed Steve a warm mug of coffee and pointed to a basket of muffins that had magically appeared, as most food seemed to do around Tony. 

Steve was halfway through a bit of muffin when heard the front door open and close and turned to greet Happy, only to find himself face to face with a tall redhead in three inch heels and a designer suit, carrying a stack of papers.  “Tony, you have got to sign these or the Board is going to lose its collective mind….Oh….I’m…interrupting,” the woman said, coming to an abrupt halt as she took in the scene.  Steve supposed they looked ridiculously domestic.

“What makes you say that?” Tony asked drily, not looking up.

“I’ll just…I’ll just come back later,” the woman said.

“Um..no, no…um, I’m sorry.  I was just leaving.  Don’t…um…don’t go on my account…I mean…I’m…leaving.  For work,” Steve managed, looking around at Tony hopefully.  God, he was terrible at this.  Tony was smirking into his coffee, but he saw him flash a quick look at the woman that Steve couldn’t read. 

“Pep, this is Steve,” Tony said, without further explanation.  Except that was apparently explanation enough. 

“Oh.  Ohhhhhh….Well, Steve…its so nice to finally meet you,” she said, and it felt genuine.  “I’m Pepper Potts, SI’s CEO.  Tony has been ignoring my attempts to get these papers signed all week, so I thought I’d come by and withhold caffeine until he caved, but I see he beat me to it this morning.”  There was a small, fond smile playing about her lips. 

“It really is so nice to meet you, Steve.  I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk Friday night at the dinner.  I don’t mean to keep you though,” Pepper added politely. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine, ma’am.  I’m sure the construction site can keep do without me for a bit,” Steve smiled.

“Construction site?” Pepper repeated, her gaze going sharp. 

“Um…yes.  I…help with the painting,” Steve said, turning to Tony to see if he’d said something wrong.

“Hmmm…that’s fascinating Steve,” Pepper said, eyes narrowing.

“I guess,” Steve agreed, though he really didn’t see how.

“It’s just that SI recently diversified its portfolio, including some investments in construction,” Pepper said carefully, enunciating every word, but she was looking at Tony now, not Steve, so he assumed this was some business thing between them.  “In fact, SI has made several interesting acquisitions recently,” she nodded.  “Do you, by any chance, have an apartment?”

“Um…yes…I share it with a couple of the guys from the crew,” he replied, wondering at the non sequitur.

“Fascinating,” she said loudly.  “Isn’t that fascinating, Tony?” she continued with false sincerity.  Steve looked between them, saw Tony shake his head and reach a hand out for the paperwork. 

“So, I need to look this over, huh?” Tony asked, staring at the pile.

“In detail,” Pepper replied, her smile a bit too gleeful for paperwork, Steve thought.  “I’ll expect comments.”

“Pep—“ Tony started.

“About the actual documents, Tony, not just random comments about how much you like paprika, this time,” she warned.

“Well…in my defense…I do really like paprika,” Tony grinned.  At Pepper’s raised eyebrow, Tony relented.  “Fine, fine.  I’ll take a look.  Leave it be, okay?”

“Steve,” she said, turning to him. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you.  I look forward to seeing you again soon.”  One more warning glance to Tony and she was out the door. 

“Not gonna lie, she kind of scares me,” Steve said, staring at the closed doors. 

“A perfectly defensible position,” Tony agreed, putting his tablet down and starting to page through the stack of paperwork. 

“Okay…well, I’m just going to go now,” Steve said, suddenly unsure as he started to edge toward the door, but then Tony was up, wrapping his arms around him and bringing his mouth down for a long kiss. 

“Just think about that when you’re on your way back,” Tony said with a grin.  Steve had no doubt he would be.

Happy drove him to the construction site, arriving just before starting time.  Steve jogged quickly to the area where the foreman handed out assignments, and found a small group of workers gathered, milling about, talking animatedly. 

“Hey!”  Clint called.  “Look what the…well-heeled chauffer dragged in.  Guess you and Warbucks made up, huh?”

“Knock it off, Clint,” Bucky said.  He jerked his head at Steve.  “You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.  Really good, Buck, honest,” Steve said, a smile refusing to stay contained.

“Good.  And hey, even better news, you’re not gonna believe it, but the company shut down the site for the day.  Gave us all comp days,” Bucky informed him.

“All pay, no work,” Clint whooped. “I love my life.”

Steve stopped short, frowning.

_It’s just that SI recently diversified its portfolio, including some investments in construction…_

He looked back over his shoulder, noticing the car still parked where he’d left it, Happy leaning against the driver’s door.  Clint and Bucky followed his gaze.

“Do you guys…I mean, this is going to sound crazy, but…do you guys think that…this…” he waved his hand vaguely at the nearly empty construction site, “has something to do with Tony?”

“Why can’t I find someone to buy a company and then shut it down to keep me in bed with them all day?” Clint asked plaintively.

“And we’ve now found the World’s Most Rhetorical Question,” Bucky replied, clapping Clint on the arm. 

Steve started shaking his head…that was…that was crazy…no one in their right mind would…

_So…if he can’t get rid of Bucky, what does he do?_

“Johnson,” Steve recalled.  “I told him about Johnson one night.  You think he…did this?”

Steve honestly wasn’t sure what to think.  He looked back at Happy, waiting nonchalantly by the car.  Bucky and Clint shrugged. 

“We’re gonna grab some beers and head back to the apartment…you in?” Bucky asked.

“No, I…I guess I’m going back,” Steve said, still trying to digest all of this.  “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”  He walked part of the way back to Happy, mind whirring. 

The apartment.  He turned back to Clint and Bucky, a question forming on his lips.

“Hey,” Clint shouted.  “Give Stark a blow job and see if you can get us a hot tub!”

Steve put his head in his hands and walked the rest of the way to the car resolutely not looking at Happy, who was snickering into his sleeve. 

He really hated Clint sometimes.


	10. Chapter 10

He climbed into the car behind Happy with a terse, “You could’ve said something,” which only caused Happy to laugh harder. 

“Boss said you two were going to tour the site for the new reactor project, so I’m to take you there,” Happy informed him.  Steve just sighed, shaking his head at Tony’s machinations. He thought about the long kiss this morning as he was leaving, Tony reminding him to think of it when he was on his way home. 

Because, of course, Tony knew he was busted. 

Steve also thought of Tony mentioning how his father would be gone for weeks at a time, but always return with a smile, pat on the head and an expensive gift.  It was hardly any wonder Tony had learned to show affection by lavishing ridiculous gifts on people, Steve thought with a disgruntled sigh.

When they arrived at their destination, he found it was a private airport, not a piece of land waiting for a reactor site, and by “tour,” Tony meant fly over it in his private jet.  He ducked his head as he climbed onboard the sleek jet marked as Stark Industries.  Tony was sitting in one of the plush leather seats, Cheshire cat grin on his face. 

“Really?” Steve asked.  “I don’t know if I should be flattered by the interest or deeply concerned by your need to control things,” he said drily. 

“Can I pick?” Tony offered. 

Steve couldn’t stop the bark of laughter from escaping. “Come on, have some champagne and brunch, enjoy the view and ignore the control freak across from you,” Tony said lightly, but Steve could tell there was an edge of nervousness about him that Steve recognized for uncertainty, probably wondering exactly how Steve was going to react to this level of meddlilng.

“You didn’t have to buy the company.  Or the building.  I don’t need all that from you, you know,” Steve said, sitting down and buckling up, as he heard the engines roar to life.  “But…but I guess for today, I’ll just say thanks.”

Tony started to chime in, but Steve cut him off.

“This once, Tony.  Just…this once,” he said firmly. 

“Of course,” Tony replied, lying through his teeth. Steve sighed, splaying his hand across his forehead and rubbing his temples. 

“You’re what my mom would call incorrigible, you know that?”  Steve said.

“When you’re as rich as I am, it’s pronounced ‘eccentric’” Tony corrected. 

Steve gave up and looked out the window as the world grew smaller below them. When they reached the site for the new arc reactor plant, which would provide clean energy to a good third of California when completed, Tony lapsed into excited chatter about where this or that part was going to go, how the delivery system worked and all kinds of other technical jargon that Steve let jus wash over him, enjoying the sound of Tony’s voice punctuated with enthusiasm and the spark in his eyes as he talked non-stop.  He knew how important this was to Tony.  A way to prove that Stark Industries could be more than something that just contributed destruction and death to the world. He just hoped the Board would be able to see it that way, too.

The next day, Steve was back at work at the construction site, because he insisted and had made Tony promise not to interfere, though Steve could tell he wasn’t happy about it.  He watched Happy drive off just in case, before going to meet Clint and Bucky.  He looked down at his new Starkphone and resisted the urge to call Tony, thinking about how he’d left him this morning, snuggled up in bed, hair mussed and a bit of drool coating the pillow he’d smashed his face into.  _Adorable_ , Steve thought with a smile.  When the phone buzzed at lunch, he picked it up immediately, expecting to hear Tony mocking him, but it was Ms. Romanov.  He didn’t even bother to wonder how she’d gotten this number so fast. 

“So…I hear Stark wants something exclusive,” she said by way of greeting.  “Can’t say I’m surprised.   And, quite frankly, a little relieved, I have to tell you.”

“Relieved?” Steve asked, curious.

“Well…” she stretched out the word, “I’ve been concerned for awhile now about the power dynamics here,” she answered. 

“What?  That’s…I mean, Tony wouldn’t…he’s nothing like…that” Steve stammered. 

“Hmmmm?  Oh, no.  No, that’s par for the course.  I just send Nick out to have a little discussion with the client about boundaries.  Not that I could do that with Stark.  Normally, I’d threaten to blackmail him with incriminating pictures or something.”

“Pictures?” Steve said sharply, stomach dropping.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  Stark would just have them printed up and sent out as Christmas cards.  Unless, of course, it involved you.  Which just illustrates exactly what I mean,” she said. 

“I don’t…I don’t follow,” Steve said, utterly confused.

“It appears someone hacked my system and deleted all records relating to you,” she explained.  “I have outstanding security protocols.  That should not have happened.  That’s what I mean about the power dynamics, Steve.  Stark…Stark is too big to fail, see?  Not much I can do to get at him.  Even if I had anything, the politicos and power brokers would just circle the wagons.  He’s one of them, after all.  On the other hand…what do you suppose would happen if you casually mention one day that you don’t think you’re being treated just right by the agency?”

“What?  Um…I don’t know what you mean…why would I…” Steve said, shaking his head, trying to follow the twists of her logic.

“Well, that’s the question that keeps me up at night, Steve,” she said evenly.  “And don’t even get me started on what happened with Hammer.”

“Wait…what happened with Hammer?” Steve asked.

“You don’t watch the news?  It’s all they can talk about now.  Feds raided his place last night, apparently after receiving a download of his server with evidence that he’d been bribing military officers and politicians in return for Hammer Industries being awarded various contracts.  They found that and a lot more when they went out there.  Including some rather disturbing videos involving Hammer and others, including said big-wigs, enough GHB to start a factory, and some of those videos features several slightly under the age of consent boys.  Not from my agency, mind you,” she said quickly, as if that was the important point.

Steve felt his stomach turn. 

“He’s sitting in a Federal prison right now.  Judge refused to grant bail,” she informed him.  “So…you can see that, from my point of view…this new arrangement with Stark, getting you off the payroll and letting him buy out the contract, for a considerable settlement fee, of course, is not…unwelcome.  About the last thing I want is Tony Stark for an enemy.  It’s one thing to hack my files, Steve, but I don’t want to find the Feds or…God forbid, the IRS…knocking on my door because Stark thinks I’ve treated you unfairly.”

Steve just nodded, mind numb at the overload of information. 

“So, about the contract.  Anything you want to specify?  We usually set it up with a condo, leased vehicle, monthly stipend, clothing allowance, that kind of thing…is there anything in particular you wanted to add?” she asked, all business again. 

“I…no…no, I’d just like to…wait…just a bit.  On the contract, I mean.  Just…I need a couple of days,” Steve said.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. 

“I’m not saying no or anything…but I need the weekend to…get things in order,” he finished, knowing she’d probably see right through him.  He had to tell Tony about his mom.  Soon.  Friday was the Board meeting on the clean energy project and the dinner afterwards.  Let Tony get through that and then they could have a real conversation.  Steve still wasn’t quite sure how to break it to him, other than being certain that before they went much further, they simply had to get everything out in the open. 

“I suppose I can stall Stark for a couple days, but I need a yes or no by Saturday,” she said.

“That’s…that should be fine,” he agreed.

“Oh, and you ought to know…there’s a mutuality clause in there. Stark’s doing,” she added.

“Mutuality clause?” he repeated in question.

“Basically that the exclusivity goes both ways,” she said.  “No stepping out for either of you.  Thought you’d like to know.”

“Um, yeah…yeah, thanks,” Steve responded, hanging up.  He hadn’t really let himself thing much about the idea of Tony finding someone else, but at Ms. Romanov’s words felt a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying lift from his chest and something warm seep down and fill in the empty places to  replace it.  It was so close, so very, very close to what he wanted.  He sighed.  Close was better than what most people get in their whole lifetime.  It would be enough.  It would have to be. 

Friday night, Steve stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and shave to find a tuxedo laid out on the bed, complete with shoes and cufflinks.  He was far from an expert, but knew quality when he saw it.  It fit like a glove, too, and Steve refused to think much on how well Tony knew his measurements.  He dressed with care, fingers finding the tiny buttons a lot easier to get on than to get off when your whole body is shaking.  He was struggling with the cufflinks a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist and drew him close.  He could smell Tony’s aftershave as he buried his face against Steve’s back, and smiled as he felt the faint press of the arc reactor.  Tony had taken to not covering it, at least around Steve.  “How did it go?” Steve asked, without turning.

“As well as could be expected,” Tony said, with a resigned, but not unhappy, sigh.  “Most of the Board was supportive, if not wholly convinced.  Others are terrified the stock will crash and not recover when we announce.  I was…well, I was surprised that Obie wasn’t more enthused.  I thought I had him onboard.” 

“Obie is…Mr. Stane?  Your dad’s friend?” Steve said, trying to recall what Tony had told him about the make-up of the Board.

“Yeah.  He’s been with the company for ages.  After my dad died, he ran it for years.  He’s…well, he’s old school, you know.  Been in weapons for decades.  Hard to change all that overnight, I guess,” Tony explained, but Steve could hear the undercurrent of disappointment in his voice.

“I’m sure he’ll come around, Tony,” Steve assured.  “After all, you convinced me it’s not at all creepy for you to buy the building I live in and the company I work for, so I’m sure you can convince him of most anything,” Steve said with a smile.

Steve turned into Tony’s embrace, wrapping his arms around him and letting his head fall to rest on Tony’s forehead.  “It’ll be okay.  You’ll see.  They’ll come around as soon as they see it working.  No one likes change. Well, except you.”

Tony huffed in gratitude.  “Ready to get this party started?”

Steve looked down.  “I guess so,” he smiled at Tony, noting how good Tony looked in his own tuxedo, slightly different from Steve’s, but they were clearly designed to complement the other.  He couldn’t help notice how Tony’s eyes darkened and his breath hitched, as he held Steve at arm’s length to give him a once over.  Steve’s mind called up images of that first night, Tony watching him from the sofa as he undressed, dropping his borrowed suit on the floor.  He remembered how nervous he’d been, fingers shaking, wondering what Tony would expect next.  He felt his mouth go dry, imagining doing something similar tonight, this time without the fear.  He thought about Tony’s reaction to that and a thrill of anticipation shot through him.  He had the sense that Tony’s thoughts were running along the same lines, as he caught the man’s eyes, pupils blown wide, as he traced light fingers down the sleeves and over the cuffs of Steve’s suit.

Tony cleared his throat.  “You know, it occurs to me that one, having other people over here tonight was a terrible idea, and two, that the faster we get out there, the faster we can be done and get back here.”

“You always have the best plans,” Steve said with a smile, following Tony out to greet the guests as they arrived.

Dinner was a lavish affair.   Steve found Pepper laughing and not too subtly teasing Tony about his recent acquisitions.  Tony waved her off with a quick, “Art. Steve likes art.  You, talk art.”

Talking art ended up being a great conversation about various contemporary styles that Pepper was trying to incorporate into Tony’s collection.  He met Rhodey, who told wild stories about Tony’s younger days and bonded with Steve over a shared love of comics, as well as several other close friends and associates.  The wine was flowing the food was delicious. There was a bit of a celebratory air to the evening, though Steve suspected a lot of it was relief on Tony’s part to be finally be past this step and moving on to something concrete.  After dinner finished, the group dispersed, and Tony disappeared with Rhodey and another gentleman down to the garage to ogle the cars.   Pepper was in deep conversation with a shrewd looking man from SI’s logistical division named Phil. 

Finally deciding seeking Tony out didn’t look too needy, Steve checked the garage, finding it empty and then trudged back upstairs, feeling rather pathetic trying to track Tony down like this.  The  man was gone ten minutes and Steve was already on edge.  He wandered down the hall, checking various rooms.  He stepped into the library, turning around after finding it empty, and then nearly jumping out of his skin when a voice called, “Looking for Tony, eh?”

“Um, sorry?” Steve questioned the room.  Mr. Stane unfurled from his spot in one of the high-backed chairs that faced the rarely used fireplace.  Stane pressed his cigar into the nearby ashtray, and walked to the bar.  “Drink?” he queried.

“No, thank you,” Steve replied politely.  “I didn’t mean to bother you.  I was just looking for where Tony’d gotten off to…” he trailed off, not wanting to be rude to Tony’s long-time friend, but also wanting to continue looking for Tony.  These people, while as nice as they could possibly be, were Tony’s people, not his, and he couldn’t help but feel out of his element. 

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence?  I’m sort of finding myself looking for where Tony got off to these days, as well,” Stane replied, walking around the bar and placing himself between Steve and the door, standing just a little too close, a little too much in Steve’s personal space for it not to be deliberate.  When Stane smiled, it was all teeth.  Steve felt something shift in the room, something that said leave, as clearly as if JARVIS had shouted it.    

“See…Tony’s always been a bit of a…well, let’s call him a flight risk, if you will.  Big ideas!  Oh, it’s great, it’s great, don’t get me wrong.  I mean, I’ve known Tony his whole life.  Brilliant, no doubt,” Stane said, splaying his palms in front of him, trying to suggest an innocence that he could not possibly think he was pulling off.

“But…but he can get his head stuck up in the clouds and all, you know?  Big ideas, big dreams, big risks…This…this clean energy thing,” and he said the way Steve’s mom had talked about Mrs. Rushman down the hall when she started in with selling homemade candles.  “See, we’re a weapons manufacturer, Steve.  Always have been.  That’s our bread and butter.  I helped build this company from scratch, when we were barely able to cobble together bullet casings, and now…now Tony gets kidnapped and comes up with some crazy idea and I think, I really do think, that we get that sorted out, but then…well, you come along and now all of sudden Tony’s the clean energy svengali, wanting to bring hope and change to the unwashed masses, and we’re shutting down production on those lovely, profit-producing smartbombs.  You can understand my concern, right, Steve?” 

There was something unnerving about the way Stane kept saying his name.  Steve couldn’t put a finger on why, but he didn’t like it.  “Actually, no, not really.  If you know Tony half as well as you say you do, then you know when he says he can do something, he can do it.  This isn’t something he’s doing on a whim, Mr. Stane.  He knows what this can do.  It really can change the world, make it a better place, and when you have that kind of chance…how can you ask him to turn his back on that?  Knowing him as well as you do, I mean,” Steve asked pointedly.

Stane smiled, and there was nothing nice in that look, Steve thought.  Stane stepped closer, clapping a large hand on his shoulder, the weight just a little too hard to be friendly. 

“I’ve been in this business a long time, Steve, seen a lot of nonsense ideas come and go,” Stane said.

“You mentioned,” Steve reminded him.

“Know lots of people.  It’s sort of a small community, when you get down to it,” Stane told him.  And it clicked seconds before the denouement was out of Stane’s mouth.    “Heard a lot about you from Justin.  Before his unfortunate incarceration, of course,” Stane said, leaning in as if they were conspirators. 

Steve knocked Stane’s hand off his shoulder and stepped away in one fluid motion. 

“It isn’t nonsense. He can do it.  I’m sorry if that thought terrifies you, but it’s Tony’s company.  I know he’d appreciate your support,” Steve said, not really meaning it, “But he doesn’t need it.”   He turned to head for the door.

“It was a shame I didn’t get a chance to meet you that night at the benefit.  I was so looking forward to it, after Justin mentioned it.  I saw you, over by the bar.  Can’t fault me for noticing.  But Tony always did like collecting beautiful things,” Stane shrugged. 

Steve felt his mouth go dry. _There are some friends I'd like you to meet later_ , he remembered Hammer saying.

But Stane wasn’t finished, not by a longshot.  “How do you suppose it would go over with the Board to find out that Tony’s paying a certain high-priced agency for the pleasure of your company every night, Steve?  Not that I blame him, mind you.  Hard for investors to trust someone who pays for it with billions of dollars, you know.  And what would the Board think if they knew that Tony’s latest little obsession was on the advice of his hooker?”  Stane asked, seemingly idly wondering, as if the concern had just occurred to him.  “After Afghanistan…well, you can imagine how that would look.  Concern has already been raised about his mental condition…totally understandable after what happened, of course…but this?  Well, this doesn’t look good, Steve.  Surely you can see that?  It would be a shame if the Board felt it necessary to remove him, after all he has accomplished.  At least, until recently.”

Steve felt the floor shift under him, all the air sucked out of the room.  Stane was threatening Tony.  Steve felt his hands ball into fists of their own accord.  He needed to get out of here.  What Stane was saying…it couldn’t be true?  They couldn’t take away Tony’s company because of Steve, surely?

Stane moved closer, and Steve could smell stale cigar on him, sickly sweet.  “I’d hate to see that happen to Tony, after all the hard work he’s done, wouldn’t you, Steve?  I hope I can count on you to do the right thing here.  For Tony.”

“For Tony?”  Steve echoed.  “You don’t know the first thing about Tony and certainly aren’t doing any of this for his sake.  This is about you and keeping whatever power it is you think you have.  But if you think you can do that at Tony’s expense, you have seriously miscalculated.”  He shrugged away from Stane, brushing past him to head for the door.  He’d heard enough.  He wanted to find Tony and…warn him?  He didn’t know exactly what he’d say, except somehow convince Tony that the person he grew up with as a father figure actually despised him.  Not much of a plan, but he’d take it.

Stane shrugged, not arguing with Steve’s conclusion.  “Tell you what, Steve.  Here’s the deal.  I don’t want to see Tony cut out.  He’s the Golden Goose, see?  But, we need that Goose to stop chasing rainbows and unicorns and do what needs to be done.  Surely you can see that?  So, how about this:   You stop pretending you’re something you’re not, quit filling Tony’s head with nonsense about what great things he can accomplish, stick to using that pretty mouth for what it was intended and maybe we can work something out.  Let Tony go back to doing what he does best, building things that go ‘boom,’ not this ridiculous energy thing, and no one has to get hurt here, Steve,” Stane offered.

“I can make it worth your while.  I know you need the money, Steve,” Stane continued. “There isn’t any reason this can’t be mutually beneficial when you play by the rules.  He’s weak, Steve.  You can see that.  You say jump and look at how easily he begs you to tell him how high.  He’s so desperate to please, it’s revolting.  That’s not the kind of man you can respect, Steve.  You don’t want that.  You don’t _need_ that.  You’d find I could be just as generous as Tony under the right conditions.  Once you’ve learned how this kind of thing goes, Steve.  Whatever you think you have with Tony…you could find something far more…satisfying…with someone who understands how all this is supposed to work, who can give you what you really need,” Stane said, his voice low with threat and something else Steve recognized as arousal.  Stane liked this, this power, liked it a lot. He was dangerous, Steve knew. 

Dangerous to Tony.

Steve’s face hardened.  He’d had enough of whatever it was Stane was suggesting, wanted to find Tony and…somehow protect him from all this.  How, he had no idea.  If Stane told the Board about Steve’s relationship with Tony, there was no telling what they would do.  The thought made his stomach clench.  It had never occurred to him that somehow this could hurt Tony’s business.  There had to be a way to counteract that, though, something that Steve’s jumbled mind wasn’t thinking of.  Tony, though.  Tony would know what to do.  This was Tony’s world.  He lived and breathed it.  He’d figure something out.  Steve had to believe that.  The idea that he had somehow cost Tony this…this much…he just couldn’t.  It was too horrible to contemplate.

“Mr. Stane, I don’t imagine there are any conditions under which a scared bully like you would be half the man Tony Stark is on his worst day,” Steve said, intending to leave it at that and find Tony, because damn if he was going to let the man have the last word.  He wasn’t sure if it was the shock of it or the impact of the back of Stane’s hand against his mouth that caused him to stagger back, knocking into a side table and spilling the ashtray of cigar detritus all over the Turkish rug.  _That will stain_ , Steve thought stupidly for a moment, tasting blood where the inside of his cheek had scraped his teeth and looking at Stane, both seemingly momentarily frozen by shock.  But Steve wasn’t blind to the shift of…something…behind Stane’s surprise. 

“Get. Out.” Tony’s voice sounded like a whip-crack in the room. 

Steve looked up to see Tony and Happy standing in library entrance, Tony’s face as mask of utter rage, eyes glittering, mouth a hard line. 

Stane shifted slightly.  “If he touches him again, you can shoot him,” Tony said almost lightly to Happy.  And for the first time, Steve noticed that there was a bulge under Happy’s evening jacket, a reminder that Happy was, after all, Tony’s bodyguard, and for the first time, actually looked the part.

“You’re really going to throw this all away because of this…this…” Stane started.

“I wouldn’t suggest finishing that sentence,” Tony replied, stone-faced. 

Stane straightened his suit jacket and made to walk out, stopping as he brushed past Tony.  “You have no idea the mistake you are making here, Tony, my boy.  I’ve always tried to look out for you.  Even when you were your own worst enemy.”

Tony just stared unwaveringly at him.  “Obie, for the service you have done my family, I am not having your ass hauled out either in handcuffs or on a stretcher.  Get out.  And never come back.  Ever, Obie.  We’re done.  We are so very, very done.”

“Fine.  Fine, Tony.  You want to live in your pretend world and run the company into the ground playing hero? Fine.  But you’re a bigger idiot than I thought if you think this,” Stane waved towards Steve, “is something real.  Something worth salting the earth on the company over.  But, I should’ve known.  You’ve always been so desperate, Tony.  Never good enough, not for Howard, not for anyone.  You think this is the real thing?” Stane asked derisively, shaking his head. 

Tony didn’t take his eyes off Steve, as Steve pressed the back of his hand to his sore mouth.  “It’s the most real thing I’ve ever known.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Stane snorted.  “Oh, Tony.  Tony, Tony, Tony.  This is…this is really quite pathetic, my boy, even for you,” Stane said, shaking his head in mock sadness.  And Steve saw it, saw it fractions of a second before it happened.  He might have reached out, to do what he wasn’t sure.  Stop Stane, put the words back in, grasp at Tony before the world spun out beneath him, he wasn’t sure.  He couldn’t breathe.  His mouth wouldn’t form the words, “No, stop, don’t” that his head was screaming.

“Your little whore just bends over for you so his vegetable of a mother can get clean sheets and a bath a day,” Stane said lowly, leaning in to Tony’s space, sharing the secret he’d been hoarding until the worst possible moment. 

Steve saw the color drain from Tony’s face, his eyes go wide and mouth slacken in shock.  Tony’s eyes locked on his, a horrible question forming in their depts.  And Steve had a moment, oddly touched, to think that Tony remembered, remembered to ask him, when Tony said, “Is that…is that…Steve?” in such an awful, choked voice that Steve wanted to wrap himself around Tony in one fell swoop, but couldn’t seem to get his body to move from where he was rooted in place. 

Steve had a brief flash of _hospitallinoleumsignherepleasefeedingtubepupilsunresponsive_.  He couldn’t bring himself to answer out loud, but Tony wasn’t stupid.  He could clearly see the flash of pain across Steve’s face at Stane’s words.   

The look of utter and complete horror on Tony’s face finally managed to get some momentum under Steve’s feet.  He intended to go to Tony, he really did, but what actually happened was his fist connected with Stane’s jaw of apparently its own accord, and Stane was flying backwards, landing in a heap on the floor.  When Steve looked up, blood pounding in his ears, Happy stood staring bewilderedly out the library doors where Tony had fled. 

Steve didn’t pause to worry about Stane, figuring Happy could handle that, just ran after him, saw him brush past dinner guests, who turned in confusion at the spectacle of their host crashing through the room, bumping and jostling his way across the living room to the steps leading to the workshop without paying any heed to what he was doing or the chaos in his wake.  Steve didn’t care, just raced after him, pushing his way through guests and servers as quickly as he could.  He saw Pepper and Rhodey turn to follow Tony’s movements with concerned gazes, but Tony was down the steps and through the workroom door before Steve could reach him. Steve reached out to grab the handle to the workroom and pulled.  It was locked.  Dammit, Tony, he thought in frustration. 

“JARVIS, can you open the door please,” Steve called, unconcerned about the crowd of spectators that had gathered behind him.

“I do apologize, Sir, but I am currently unable to comply with that request,” JARVIS responded, not sounding happy about it.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

“Tony!  Tony!  Open the door, Tony, please!” Steve shouted, pounding against the glass with his fists.  “Tony, dammit, open the door!”

He turned in a circle, looking for anything he might be able to use to just break the glass, and heard the squeal of tires directly behind the glass.  He took the steps two at a time and raced across the living room, flinging open the front doors, a flood of guests following him out the door, to see Tony’s Audi speed off down the driveway.

_God-dammit all to hell._


	11. Chapter 11

Three days later, still not a word from Tony and Steve was ready to tear his hair out.  He hadn’t hardly left the house, assuming, he thought reasonably, that Tony would blow off some steam and be back, they’d talk it out and then figure out a plan to deal with Stane. Completely reasonable.  What normal people would do, he figured.  Not that he had a lot of experience with his…boyfriend’s?  Ok, sure, boyfriend’s childhood father figure seeking to undermine him and steal his company while also sabotaging what was apparently a still-fragile relationship. 

There had been that one time his date got his coffee order wrong, but that probably was poor preparation. 

Steve sat on the sofa, staring at the horizon and put his head in his hands.  “Any word, JARVIS?” he asked, same as every day.

“I’m sorry, Sir.  Sir has not communicated with me since the night of the dinner, except to make the arrangements of which you are already aware,” JARVIS responded. It felt oddly comforting to have something of a Brother-in-Arms when it came to being ignored by Tony, and he could swear the AI was sounding rather peeved. 

The arrangements, of course, concerned Steve’s mom.  That had been his one trip out, finding it rather nice to not have to worry about hiding where he was going Sunday afternoons.  He wasn’t sure if his mom’s condition was improving, though the doctors seemed optimistic, but at least it wasn’t continuing to deteriorate.  He was amazed at how quickly you could go to measuring success in tiny, tiny increments.  He’d stopped at the Accounts department, unable to feign any moment of surprise when the nice woman at the desk told him his mom’s account had been taken care of. 

Because of course he had.  He’d known that weeks ago.  He kept running things over and over again in his head.  He should’ve just told Tony about the situation early on.  Put an end to this whole charade of a client relationship with Tony and let him know how he felt.  Deep down, he’d known how Tony would react.  He knew the man well enough at this point to realize that he would manage to take the information and turn it around in his head so that it was somehow something sordid that Tony could have just controlled, if only he’d been a better person.  For all his outward bravado, Tony rarely missed a chance to blame himself, if it was at all humanly possible.  Steve couldn’t understand why Tony did that to himself, when Tony was the most brilliant, wonderful, generous person he’d met, but he knew enough about Tony to know that Tony didn’t see himself that way, couldn’t see it that way.  Only saw how he’d failed, the things he’d missed, never what he’d actually accomplished.

Which was why he’d planned to tell Tony when he could do so without the man flying off the handle about it.  Instead, Tony gets to find out in the worst possible way.   Because of course, this was his life, he thought with a heavy sigh.

After calling in to take the day off work on Monday, figuring, rightly as it turned out, that it wasn’t like anyone was going to say anything to him about it, Steve decided to go ahead in the next day.  It wasn’t like he had anything else to occupy his time, and at least doing the painting gave him something to keep his thoughts from obsessing over Tony’s whereabouts and what he wanted to tell him when Tony finally surfaced. 

At lunch, Steve walked down to a small park near the construction site and sat on a shaded bench to eat his lunch.  He was somehow completely unsurprised when Tony plopped down next to him halfway through his sandwich.  Tony didn’t immediately say anything, so Steve just bided his time, giving Tony a moment to decide how to proceed.

He knew he should probably give Tony hell for running off like that.  Honestly though, Steve was too happy to see Tony to manage much in the way of righteous indignation.  He shifted on the bench to angle his body towards Tony, taking in the man’s appearance.  He was, of course, dressed in an expensive suit, but his hair was mussed and he’d taken his sunglasses off.  He was leaning back against the bench, hand tapping a staccato rhythm against the arc reactor in his chest.  Steve wondered if he realized what he was doing.  Tony was scanning the park, studiously refusing to look in Steve’s direction.

“That night…” Tony began, “Uh, that night when I…” he vaguely waved his hand.  “Was mistaken about you and Bucky.”

Steve nodded, surprised by the lead in.  He wasn’t sure where Tony was going with this.

“You said…you said that it wasn’t about the money.  You just liked being with me,” Tony repeated.  And yeah, Steve did remember that, though still couldn’t see how this was related.  It obviously was in Tony’s mind though, so he just waited it out.

“I hated hearing that from you.  I knew it was a line.  Something you’re told to say to clients, so they don’t feel guilty about what they’re doing.  I didn’t want to think of myself that way,” Tony went on.

“You’re not—“ Steve started, turning more towards Tony and vehemently shaking his head.

But Tony ignored him and continued on, seemingly talking to the park at large.  “I thought I was above that.  A better person than those other people that would just use you.  But the truth is…I knew from that first night that you wouldn’t be doing this without being absolutely desperate.  Maybe some people could and just enjoy the money, but not you.  I knew that, but I let myself keep on with it anyway.  Told myself whatever it was, I was helping, after all, right?  Making it easier, right?  God, what a crock of shit.  Never let it be said I can’t thoroughly delude myself when I really want to.”

“Tony, you can’t…I never said…” Steve tried to cut in.

Tony just shook his head.  “I could’ve pressed, Steve.  Or just found out on my own.  Obie did.  The truth is, I didn’t want to know because I knew whatever it was, this would have to stop if I knew, and I’m just that selfish when it comes down to it.  I’m a fixer, Steve.  That’s what I do.  Make things better, take something and improve it.  But I knew if I fixed you, you could leave me.  And I’m that much of a son-of-a-bitch.”  Tony was still resolutely studying the food truck, refusing to look at Steve, which was driving Steve crazy.

Steve sucked in a breath, trying to follow Tony’s logic.  The man was brilliant, but that came with certainty that wasn’t always warranted.  At least not when it came to Steve.  “Tony…this…this was my choice.  There is nothing here that was your fault.  And you did help.  Not just the money, but…well, everything.  You have no idea what just being with you did for me,” Steve said, feeling his chest constrict at Tony’s words.  Of course Tony would find a way to blame himself because Steve’s life managed to land him in a situation without a lot of good options.  And why not?  Tony controlled the universe, right?  At least he seemed to think he should, as evidenced by the whole work/apartment situation. 

“Maybe it was a choice for some, Steve, but don’t pretend it was for you.  It was something you felt you had to do when there was nothing left to try, because you’d sacrifice anything for the people you care about.  But a choice?  That night…that first night…Steve…you didn’t want to be there.  I knew that.  I knew that, but I did it anyway. I took advantage of your desperation,” Tony breathed, voice shaking.  “And that…that kills me, Steve.”

“That’s not fair, Tony—“ Steve interrupted. 

“I could’ve taken that away from you that night, right then and there and the money?  Wouldn’t have been anything to me.  But I chose not to because I wanted you too badly.  If I could go back…I should’ve just demanded you tell me why that first night, taken you to dinner like a normal person, gotten your number…but no.  Couldn’t do that, could I, selfish bastard that I am.  You were so…bright.  And everything had been dark for so long.  I’d been out of that God-forsaken cave for two years, but that was the first time it had felt like it, and I wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing, even if it meant hurting you,” he finished harshly, self-loathing evident in his voice. 

“You’re trying to put this all on your shoulders, Tony, but I was the one that made the decision to do this.  It was my choice, and you’re trying to take that away from me and twist it up into something for you to feel guilty about, but that wasn’t anything to do with you, Tony.  Lots of people have to make decisions without many options. That doesn’t mean they aren’t responsible for their own choices.  And it was hardly your responsibility to see all that the first night we met and decide to fix it.  You’re looking to blame yourself for something that you had no control over, and I’m not going to let you do that,” Steve said resolutely. 

Steve took a deep breath.  “The truth is…the truth is that after that first night, I’d decided I was done with this.  I told Ms. Romanov that when she called.  But then…then she said you wanted me back that night.  And I found myself saying yes.  Not because of the money, Tony.  I’m not going to pretend I didn’t use that to justify it in my head.  Or that didn’t make life easier. But the truth is, I wanted to see you again.  If Romanov had said any other name, I’d have been done with this.  I told her that.  But when she said it was you…I wanted to go back.  I told myself it was the money, but if that had been it, then anyone would’ve done.  I wanted to be with you,” Steve tried to explain.  “So, please, stop blaming yourself for my choices.   That first night…I was a lot of things.  Nervous, embarrassed and, well, a lot of things.  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be there that night.  I could’ve left.  And I knew you’d have paid me the night’s money without going further if I’d asked it.  But I didn’t.  You’re so busy blaming yourself, you don’t see that I wanted you, too,” Steve was practically shouting now.  “You want to take me out of this whole equation and put it all on you.  I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.  And I’m not going to let you reduce me to someone who can’t make his own decisions or take responsibility for them.”

A long moment passed in silence between them.  Steve had no idea what was running through Tony’s mind at this point.  He knew he should make tony talk to more about the situation between them, but couldn’t’ resist asking about the elephant in the proverbial room.  “Tony…what about Stane? What he said…about the Board?  Can they really do that?  Take the company away because…because of us?” 

Tony just waved his hand dismissively.  “Maybe they could’ve made noise…but they won’t.  Not now.  Obie…well, it turns out that he’d been laying the foundation for this…having me removed, anyway, for awhile.  I was too…out of it to notice.  I guess.  Anyway, he may have been onto something, but the phrase ‘hoisted on his own petard’ comes to mind.  There were some…videos…that surfaced as part of a Federal investigation into…another matter.  His resignation will be effective tomorrow.  Whatever he’d been feeding the Board…they aren’t likely to listen to him now.  The more distance they can put between him and the company, the better.” 

Steve tried to feign ignorance about the videos Tony was likely talking about.  He wasn’t sure he pulled it off, but Tony didn’t press the point.  Steve couldn’t help but feel a huge sense of relief.  He’d been so afraid he’d cost Tony the company he loved. 

“Besides, there isn’t much the Board could really do, anyway.  I own a controlling interest in the company, so effectively control elections to the Board.  Stane was just messing with you to get to me,” Tony said darkly.  Steve heard him take in a deep, steadying breath.  “Don’t worry about Stane, Steve.  He won’t be bothering…us…again.  That much I can promise you, at least.”

Finally, Steve decided he’d had enough.  They both wished they’d handled things differently from the beginning.  Seemed the best way to deal with that was to try again.  Do it right this time. He just hoped if he went out on the limb, Tony would follow.

He stuck out his hand toward Tony, “Hi.  I’m Steve Rogers.  I’m twenty-five, and a part-time art student in New York.  I work odd jobs in between, usually in construction or painting.  About four months ago, I got a phone call that my mother had been hit by a car as she walked across a cross-walk and was in intensive care with something they called a Traumatic Brain Injury.  I took the bus out here and crashed on my best friend’s sofa for a bit while I tried to figure things out.  Turns out, even after insurance, there were a stack of bills to pay off and Mom didn’t have much in the way of savings from her waitress job.  The only ongoing care insurance would cover was in a county hospital for long-term care and when I visited there, I thought I’d rather do just about anything than leave her there to die slowly while I went on with my life.  But I had no idea what to do about it.  My best friend, Bucky, got me a job with the company he works for and I did as many extra shifts as I could, but it wasn’t enough.  Not by a long shot.  I got pretty desperate as the hospital started pressuring me to move her to a long-term facility.  Bucky’s roommate Clint, mentioned an option that he’d used in the past when he was short on cash.  It was one of those ‘seemed like a good idea at the time’ things, but when I met my first client…I panicked.  Then I met this amazing guy at a party and he was wonderful and kind and funny and passionate and so brilliant that I just wanted to stop and listen and just be in his space, even if I had no idea what he was saying.  I didn’t know how to tell him that I wanted him, not his money, but also desperately needed his money.  I kept trying to make that sound right, but couldn’t get there, and then he had this big presentation, and I didn’t want to burden him…so I waited.  Or let myself wait, I don’t know who I was doing that for, him or me.  But then it all went to hell and now I think he blames himself for something that was completely not his fault, that he only made better in so many ways, and I don’t know how to get him to believe that except to tell him how much I love him and hope he believes me.”

Steve finished and let the silence hang between them.  He had no idea how Tony was going to react to all that.  Information dump may not have been the best relationship repair strategy, after all.

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark.  I’m…older,” Tony said, slowly shaking Steve's hand, and Steve rolled his eyes because he had Googled, after all.  “I run a very successful company, and I hate what it does.  I spend my time coming up with new technologies that I don’t use.  Most days, it is all I can do to get out of bed, breathe in and out and put one foot in front of the other.  I can’t sleep.  I can’t eat.  I just exist.  Or I did.  Then I met this amazing guy at a party and he was funny and sweet and kind, and he made me feel like I could do anything.  He was so convincing of this that I finally decided to change the whole focus of my company into something I could actually believe in.  And I fell in love with him, so completely and totally that I might have…overreacted  a bit…when I thought he loved someone else, but then, amazingly enough, he said he didn’t.  But I told myself he was only with me because he had to be and if I took that away, if I fixed that, he’d leave me, and I was too selfish to let that happen, so I didn’t fix it and let him keep having to worry about it, and I’m afraid that if I tell him that, he’ll hate me and won’t understand how deeply, irrevocably in love with him I am and that I was just terrified that he’d leave me if I didn’t make myself indispensible, because why wouldn’t he?  Everyone does, and he…he could have anyone.”

They sat like that for awhile, neither speaking, just letting their words hang between them.  Finally, Steve cleared his throat.  “So…Tony Stark…would you like to have a drink with me?” Steve asked, nodding his head in the direction of the food truck.  “I hear that’s how it’s done these days.”

“I would…be delighted to have a drink with you, Steve Rogers,” Tony said with a small, enigmatic smile.

They rose together and walked tentatively over to the food truck.  “Two bottles of water, please,” Steve ordered.  He turned to see Tony looking rather alarmed and patting down the front of his suit. 

“Um…I don’t think I actually have any cash on me,” Tony said, chagrined. 

“Well….” Steve said, the word a drawl.  He looked Tony up and down with exaggerated appraisal.  “I think we might be able to work something out…”

Tony’s bark of laughter was reward enough as Steve paid for the water.

“I actually have to get back to work,” Steve said with a frown.  He didn’t really want to leave Tony to his own devices at this point, afraid he’d just end up over-thinking everything again.

Tony stopped and turned to him, clasping his hands onto Steve’s upper arms in a semblance of a hug.  “Steve.  You know we just had our big declaration moment, right?  Right there,” he indicated the bench, “like just a minute ago.  So, when I say this, please know that I say this will all the love in my heart.”

“Um…okay,” Steve responded. 

“Hon…you’re fired.  You’re like…so incredibly fired.  Fired, fired, fired,” Tony said, shaking his head in mock sadness.  “I can get hundreds of painters.  There’s only one you.  And if you think I’m letting you go back to work after that…”

“Tony…” Steve tried, but it came out in a laugh, and he knew he was so screwed.  “I’ve never been fired before.”

“Embrace it.  Own it,” Tony said, grinning madly. “Besides…there’s a hell of a severance package,” he leered.  Steve just shook his head, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“Incorrigible,” he accused.

“That’s ‘eccentric,’ I told you,” Tony reminded him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along.  He looked up and noticed Happy waiting with the car in the distance. 

“I just have one more question…” Tony said, taking a long swallow from his water bottle.  “Why does that Clint guy keep sending me an eVite for a ‘Hot Tub Time Machine Party’?”

Steve choked on his water and turned bright red.  “Um…I’ll explain when we get home,” he managed in a strangled voice.  _Dammit, Clint,_ he thought, flushing with embarrassment. 

“I think I look forward to it,” Tony said with a grin.


	12. Smut Interlude:  No actual plot was used or harmed in the writing of this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lee, who wanted some smut.

When they arrived home, and it occurred to Steve with a smile that somewhere along the way he’d begun to think of this as home instead of Tony’s house, they barely made it in the door before Tony was pushing him back against the wall, mouth devouring his, hands pushing up his shirt.  Steve had a moment to think, _Not by the Pollack_ , before he forgot why he cared, as Tony’s tongue scraped the inside of his mouth, delving deep. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” Tony murmured against his mouth, hands coming up from where they’d been running up and down his stomach to cup jaw in a light caress.  Tony paused, pulling back enough to trace gentle fingers along Steve’s jawline where Stane’s slap had landed.  There wasn’t anything left but a light shading, damn his fair skin, but he could see Tony’s mouth tighten into a grimace.

“I should’ve been there faster,” Tony whispered.  “I was showing off to Rhodey and JARVIS said…well, I should’ve been faster.”

“Not your fault, Tony.  Besides, you may have noticed I can take care of myself,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I noticed.  Not even going to pretend that’s not totally hot.  In retrospect, anyway,” Tony said, slight smile appearing again, so Steve took it as a win.  Not wanting to give Tony time to come up with some other way to blame himself, Steve dipped his head to Tony’s mouth, tracing Tony’s bottom lip with his tongue, before running it lightly between them. 

Keeping them wrapped together and barely releasing Tony’s mouth, Steve maneuvered them both down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door, closing it behind them with a slam before going back to placing light kisses against Tony’s throat.  Tony was pulling him toward the bed, but in one swift motion, Steve moved Tony around behind him against the wall, letting the kisses turn harder, more insistent, until Tony was making little gasping sounds when he managed to get enough breath. 

“You know the eVite from Clint?” Steve asked.

“Huh?” Tony managed to choke out, eyes dark and wide, mouth slack, and clearly having no clue why the kissing had stopped for something to do with Clint.

“The eVite?  From Clint.  For the hot tub party?”  Steve reminded him.

“You really want to talk about a party with your former roommate right now?” Tony asked incredulously.

“No.  I just want to be clear that you are not, under any circumstances, to buy that man a hot tub just because he may have made a suggestion one day.  I mean it, Tony.  No hot tub,” Steve said firmly.

Tony just nodded dumbly.  “No hot tub for Clint.  Got it.  Can we go back to the— _oh fucking Christ_ …” Tony sputtered as Steve dropped to his knees in front of him and began working at Tony’s belt and zipper.  He opened Tony’s pants enough to shift them and his briefs down enough to free Tony’s cock, which helpfully bobbed up to press against Steve’s cheek.  Tony was busy making inarticulate sounds and trying to grab at anything that wasn’t Steve’s hair, but finding only empty wall space.  Steve brushed his jaw along the length of Tony’s shaft, letting the slight scrape of beard drag along, scraping just enough for the friction to make Tony finally give up trying to be a gentlemen and thread his hands through Steve’s hair with a throaty “Nugh.” 

Steve kept his hands on Tony’s hips to still him long enough to envelope the head of Tony’s cock in his mouth, flattening his tongue and letting it rest there for a moment.  Looking up at Tony, his head thrown back, eyes vacantly staring at the ceiling, mouth hanging open and small mumbles of nothing but letters strung together spilling forth, Steve felt a heady rush and for a moment, he remembered that first night, standing naked in front of Tony and thinking he should feel vulnerable like that but instead, Tony’s reaction making him hard with the thrill of power he had over the man.

Steve began to move his head up and down, just enough to roll up his tongue and let the tip of Tony’s cock knock against it, keeping it from hitting the back of his throat just yet.  Tony was trying not to thrust his hips, Steve could tell, his hands fisting in Steve’s hair but carefully not tugging.  Steve was pretty sure he could fix that.

He drew back enough to tongue the slit, licking the pre-come as it dripped, before swirling his tongue around the head and then swallowing Tony whole, feeling his nose press against the springy hair below Tony’s navel, the tip of Tony’s cock hitting the back of his throat as he moved up and down.

When he looked up, Tony was staring down at him, pupils blown completely brown, but managing to be filled with arousal, longing and such love that Steve groaned, the vibrations thrumming through Tony’s cock, causing his hips to jerk spasmodically as Steve continued his up and down motion. 

“Steve-Steve-Steve,” Tony was chanting and Steve felt a more insistent tugging at his hair, so he pulled back enough to mouth the head and suckle, lightly at first, then hollowing his cheeks to apply a harder suction, earning a shout from Tony, before swallowing the length down again and releasing his grip on Tony’s hips as the other man lost control enough to thrust in hard, rapid strokes against the back of his throat.  Steve felt the warm, salty rush spill down the back of his throat as Tony came, hips jerking a couple final times as Steve pulled off enough to swallow around Tony’s shaft before finally releasing it as it went slack.  He couldn’t help running his cheek along the side again, placing a light kiss as he went.  He felt Tony go boneless and slump over, head resting on Steve’s shoulder.

After a long moment, Tony managed to regroup enough to place a sloppy kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth. 

“I’m buying Clint a fucking hot tub company,” Tony gasped out.

“Hmmm…” Steve said laughing a bit as he stood, Tony sort of flopping loosely against his chest, holding onto his arms and burying his face against Steve’s neck.  Tony hung there for a moment before moving his hands to lift Steve’s shirt off as Steve raised his arms to help.  Tony was nudging him back to the bed, hands skittering across Steve’s chest, rough thumbs lightly grazing across Steve’s nipples, making them pebble into hard nubs.  Tony’s mouth worked its way down to the hollow of Steve’s throat, then light kisses were pressed against his chest before Tony pressed his lips against Steve’s nipple, not taking in his mouth just yet, just working it with his lips, running them back and forth across it, teasing, causing Steve to suck in a sharp breath as he lay back on the bed, Tony following him down. 

Steve’s hands were on the buttons of Tony’s shirt, having a hard time getting them to cooperate while Tony was doing…things…with his mouth, finally earning a chuckle and some help from Tony.  Once his shirt was off, Steve reached up to press a hand gently against the glow of the arc reactor.  He could feel his erection grow even harder in his pants. 

“You’re weird,” Tony said, grinning widely, but seemingly oddly pleased.

Steve just shrugged.  “I told you I liked it.”

Tony just smiled and went back to work worrying at Steve’s nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking lightly, laving his tongue over it in slight, sweeping motions, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard, earning a sharp cry from Steve as his back bowed into the pressure.  Tony released it with a lascivious grin and turned his attention to the other, bringing his fingers up to rub the now-sensitive between them as he suckled at the other.  Steve was pretty sure he was panting at this point, he couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs to make them work properly.  He wasn’t sure how long Tony was at it, it seemed just past too long, feeling the ache in his nipples as Tony continued his ministrations running a sharp line of need that went right down to his cock.  Tony released his hand from a nipple and moved it down to cup Steve through his pants, causing him to buck up against Tony’s hand.

“Want you inside me, Steve,” Tony said huskily, making Steve moan, because they hadn’t done that, except that one night, Tony’s need to be in control leeching over into the bedroom as well, which was just fine with Steve most of the time, but God, the sound of those words….Steve felt his cock get impossibly harder and was a bit surprised he didn’t just spill right then and there.  Tony was undoing his pants and he kicked his shoes off and lifted his hips to help the other man remove them.  He felt a warm hand wrap around his cock for a moment and then Tony was reaching for the tube in the nightstand and rolling over to lay next to Steve.  Without thinking, Steve took the tube from Tony and stared at it a moment before enough blood managed to make it to his brain to catch up.  Oh.  Okay, then.  He struggled to a sitting position and moved between Tony’s legs as he spread them to accommodate him. 

Tony’s eyes were wide and dark, but the way he was looking at Steve, with such trust and love, it made Steve’s chest constrict with want and something else, something so deep and real, it took his breath away.  This…this was what they’d been fighting for.  He pressed a kiss to Tony’s knee and rested his head for a moment before squeezing a generous amount from the tube onto his hand.  Slowly, carefully, he pressed his finger against Tony’s entrance, feeling the ring of muscle shift as he pushed in to the knuckle, trying to remember how Tony had done it, assuming that he’d done what he liked.  He watched Tony puff out a breath, and then pressed another finger slowly in, letting Tony have a moment to adjust before starting to slowly move them in a small circle, then pressing deeper, both fingers fully in and hooking them upwards, earning a hiss from Tony as he clenched the sheets in his fists and started chanting Steve’s name again, interspersed with grunts and groans and nonsense words, looking utterly wrecked.

Finally, when he felt Tony’s body loosening enough, he pressed a third finger in, this one sliding in more easily and began to thrust a bit, scissoring them on each thrust and felt the moment Tony’s mind gave up to his body, as he went rigid, then boneless, knees splaying, head thrown back and eyes locked on Steve.  Steve moved into position and slowly pressed his cock in, watching as Tony’s body engulfed the head and God, he was so warm and tight and it was so good, so very good and then Steve was pushing in, burying himself to the hilt, feeling his balls tap against Tony’s ass as he did.  Tony’s whole body bowed as he did, legs falling open even wider, and he reached up to grab Steve’s head to bring him down for a long kiss, followed by a quick peck as Tony collapsed back onto the bed and ground his hips downward, and _ohJesusfuck_ , that was good, Steve thought as he began to thrust, slow and long, body quickly finding the right rhythm.

Steve braced his hands on either side of Tony so he was looking directly down at the other man, watching his reactions as Steve moved his hips in deep, hard thrusts, breath coming out in tiny puffs of air.  He felt himself tightening and knew it wouldn’t be long, so he shifted slightly downward, adjusting the angle of his hips and thrust up, hard and deep, hitting the bundle of nerves just so and watched Tony’s whole body jump as he gave a sharp cry, followed by a low, keening whine as Steve hit it again and again and again and then Steve was coming, thrusts erratic now, deep and hard as he came, then shallowing as his body wrung the last few strokes from him.  He collapsed on top of Tony for what was probably longer than was necessary, but had no real desire to remove himself from Tony’s body, let alone roll over.  Tony didn’t seem to mind, just kept pressing small, feathery kisses to his shoulder and collarbone where he could reach.  Finally, Steve made himself pull out, as gingerly as he could, and rolled over enough to wrap his arms around Tony, placing a kiss to the top of the man’s head of unruly hair.

Their breathing finally calmed and Steve grabbed the nearby towel to clean them up.  “That…that was…” Steve started, but had no idea how to put it into words, really.   

“Yeah,” Tony replied, sounding wrung out.  “Yeah.  It really was.”

“Love you,” Steve told the top of Tony’s head.

“Love you, too,” Tony managed through a yawn.  It was the middle of the day, but who cared?  Not like they had any place to be.

“No hot tub for Clint, Tony,” Steve reminded him firmly.

A week later, when he stopped by Clint and Bucky’s to grab the last of his few personal items, there was a Jacuzzi hooked up in the living room. 

A large plaque on the side said, in bold, black letters, “BUCKY’S HOT TUB.” 

Steve wondered why he ever even bothered.


	13. Epilogue

“It’s your turn,” Steve said, face smashed into the pillow. 

“Donwanna…” Tony slurred.

“I did it last time,” Steve reminded him.

“Are you sure?  I remember it differently.  Pretty sure it’s your turn,” Tony replied, rolling over to bury his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“Nice try.  It’s definitely your turn,” Steve said without moving.

“I’ll give you a million dollars if you do it,” Tony offered.

“Don’t need it,” Steve huffed.  “Married well.”

“I knew that was going to come back to bite me,” Tony said with a smile.  “I don’t see why we have to do this every couple of hours.  That just seems like overkill, quite frankly,” Tony continued, as he reached to the bedside table to grab the supplies and rolled over.

“You love it,” Steve replied, not opening his eyes.

Tony got up with a tired sigh and walked the short distance down the hall.  “You know,” he said quietly,  “I used to have all kinds of fantasies about that beautiful man back there.  Now?  Now, I just imagine sleeping.  Seriously, it’s all I think about.  And do you know why?” he asked, bending down.  “You.  It’s totally your fault.  You’re pretty selfish that way, you know.”  Peter stared up at him with round, wide-awake eyes.  “If you don’t sleep, we don’t sleep.  And if you’re not careful, your Dad, who is trying very hard to finish your mural, is going to end up painting something closer to _Guernica_ on your nursery wall, which believe me, will creep you the fuck out.”

“That’s one,” Steve’s sleep-filled voice came from doorway behind him.

Tony sighed.  “I don’t think it should really count until sunrise.  Hardly seems fair.”  A beat passed before he gave up.  “Fine.  JARVIS, transfer the ten thousand to the Swear Jar Charity of the Day.” 

He gave Peter the bottle as he rocked him, Peter’s hand reaching up to tap at the blue circle on Tony’s chest.  “He’s still awake,” Tony said resignedly. 

“He really needs to sleep a bit more.  I promised mom we'd bring him by the rehab center.  Last time, he slept the entire visit.  Which, by the way, so did you, don't think I didn't notice," Steve admonished with a soft smile.  "Maybe just rock him a little longer.  He likes that,” Steve suggested.

Tony sat down in the rocker and shifted Peter around to cradle his head.  He rocked gently for a few moments, but Peter just reached up to scrape his hands over Tony’s goatee.  Not sleeping.  Definitely not sleeping. 

“How about a story?” Tony asked quietly, looking down at the large, wide-awake eyes.  “Once upon a time, two fabulous looking men met at a terrible party.  One was very rich, but very unhappy.  The other was…let’s go with having a down year…”  Tony said, hearing Steve’s snort of muffled laughter, “but he had so much to give.  The rich man just couldn’t believe someone like that would love him, so he was very mean to the nice man.”

Steve was peering at him from the nursery doorway now, a soft, fond smile playing on his lips.

“The nice man loved him back anyway. But both were very stupid, as people in love often are, and you should really know that ahead of time. It will save you loads of trouble.  Seriously, you have no idea,” Tony continued, earning a wan smile from Steve.

 “ _AndthenyourUncleBuckywasatotaldickbuttheyfigureditoutsoitwasokay,_ ” Tony finished quickly.

“That word is on the list, too,” Steve said, walking on careful steps over to look down at the Tony and the now-sleeping Peter. 

“I’ve already taken the liberty of handling the transfer, Sir,” JARVIS responded quietly.

“Will you ever leave the part about Bucky out of that story?  He feels terrible, you know,” Steve tried, as Tony stood up.

“No.  He really, really doesn’t,” Tony replied.

“Ok, he doesn’t.  But you shouldn’t tell Peter that.   Buck adores him,” Steve said sternly. 

Tony put the sleeping Peter carefully down in his crib, and followed Steve back to the bedroom to crawl back into bed.  Steve rolled over to wrap his arms around his husband, placing a light kiss on his forehead. 

“That was a nice story,” Steve said softly.

“Well, that’s how pretty much how I remember it,” Tony replied. 

Steve cuddled closer, the room silent, except for the hiss of the monitor. 

“It’s too late to go back to sleep and too early to get up,” Tony observed, finger tracing a pattern across Steve’s stomach, raising his eyebrows speculatively.

“What’s our Swear Jar Charity of the Day, JARVIS?” Steve asked.

“Today’s charity is the National Arbor Day Foundation,” JARVIS replied.

Steve and Tony looked at each other blankly. 

“I love trees,” Tony said, a wicked grin forming.  “Like, adore them.  There should be tons more.  Because Climate Change.  It’s bad.  I heard.  There’s like a whole conference or something about it.  So.  Trees.  Lots and lots of trees.  Looooove the trees.  Treeeeeeeeeeeeeeessss, Steeeeeeeeeeeve,” Tony laughed, flopping dramatically onto Steve’s chest and enjoying the feel of the laughter echoing there.

“JARVIS, please make sure to keep an accurate count.  Whaddya say?  Shall we save the world, Tony?” Steve said smiling, curving his hand down Tony’s stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” Tony said, dipping his head to Steve’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look Ma! I did fluff! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. You have no idea how happy it makes me!
> 
> This was stupid fun to write, clichéd as it was. Basically, a Harlequin, but with gay porn. Which makes it better, obviously.
> 
> I reblog Stony stuff and sometimes post things on tumblr when I can figure out how: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sabrecmc


	14. NSFW Fanart by maxkennedy24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful artwork done by maxkennedy24. Find more gorgeous works and info about commissions on tumblr at maxkennedy24.tumblr.com:

[](https://www.cweb-pix.com/image/LHG8)


	15. Fanart by tsumi-noaru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This stunning artwork was done by tsumi-noaru.tumblr.com. I highly recommend this artist for your commissions!


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